Watership Down The New World
by Sharks Potter
Summary: Following the tragic deaths of his wife and daughter, Dr Alan Johnson has become a recluse until he accepts a job from an old friend. Enroute to New Forest National Park, their plane flies through a mysterious warp and disappears... Join them on a fabulous journey into the future world of 2791 A.D., where giant, intelligent rabbits have replaced mankind...
1. Chapter 1 A new assignment

**Disclaimer:** With the exception of the human characters, I do not own any of the characters from _Watership_ _Down_ and _Tales from_ _Watership_ _Down_, which are the creations of Richard Adams and Martin Rosen. Any similarity to anyone alive or dead is purely coincidental and no profit is intended from this work. Also, there is some burrowed material and reference made to another WD fanfic that gave me the inspiration to write this story, called _The Cross Bearer_ by RogueFanKC. Rated PG for some violence in later chapters.

**December 24th, 2012**

The evening frost had settled on the pavements of Baker Street, London. Being Christmas Eve, everybody had gone home early to celebrate Christmas with their families, so, aside from the London buses that drove by every few minutes, the street was deserted, save for a tall figure in a hooded winter coat walking alone along the sidewalk, towards a shabby-looking coffee shop opposite the closed Holmes Museum. The figure glanced briefly through the shop window, before pushing the door open and entering.

He took a seat at a table in a secluded of the room, opposite a rather burly-looking man with ginger hair and a matching beard, who was sipping a beer, expecting him. The two men stared at each other for a few seconds before the burly man put aside his pint, crossed his hands and spoke in a rather nervous voice.

"About bloody time Al; I thought you'd never come…"

"Good evening to you too, Dr Shaw", replied the newcomer in a cold voice as he removed his snow-flaked hood, revealing a pale, well-built man in his mid-thirties, with unkempt black hair and an unshaven face with a thin toothbrush-like moustache. The only impairment visible was the horn-rimmed glasses on his nose, which, ironically, also gave him the impression of a person with a cultivated mind. From afar, he'd give the impression of a fellow accustomed to intense physical activity, with his broad shoulders and developed muscles. His dark hazel eyes however, hidden behind his spectacles, seemed to have a haunted look in them, almost as if he was being tormented by some inner demons, as he continued avoiding his friend's deep brown eyes.

"Since when am I _Dr Shaw_ to you?" replied the man called Shaw, struggling to get his friend Alan's full attention. Dr Alan Johnson, a withdrawn marine of the Royal Navy, was an associate professor at the Royal University of London. A keen adventurer and dedicated conservationist at heart, he taught zoology and botany at the university, focusing on teaching his students into realising the importance and value of nature, now under grave threat from human overpopulation and exploitation. His friend and colleague Dr Derek Shaw, an Irish-born immigrant from Belfast, was a professor of Mechanical Engineering at the same university. A skilled engineer, he specialised in engine and propulsion systems design. Alan and Derek were childhood friends, having met as orphans and built their future together; Alan had even married and started a family, until a little over a year ago, when his life had suddenly taken an unsuspected turn for the worst.

"Look Deke, I am not here to play childish games," snapped the raven haired man in frustration, "Now, will you please be so kind as to get straight to the point and tell me, why the hell did you drag me down here from Chelsea? I have much more important things to do at home, you know!" He continued avoiding his friend's eyes, instead staring absentmindedly out the shop window. Derek Shaw sighed in silent pity at his friend's depression, one he had been desperately trying to help Alan overcome throughout the past year, but without success.

"Al, will you quit acting like a fruitcake and look at me, please? For the past year you have become more paranoid than a bloody hermit! You take that bastard Rector's 'advice' and quit your job, literally throwing your hard-earned career out the window without protest, only to reduce yourself to an isolated drunk, on the verge of bankruptcy!"

"That was _my_ decision Derek, not yours," replied Alan coldly as he struck a match on the underside of the table and lit a crumpled cigarette he had taken out of his pocket, even though it was a non-smoking area. He inhaled several deep puffs as if the nicotine was a calming medication, "Ever since the funeral, I just couldn't keep up any more, not with the memory of Mary and Lucy tormenting me without end…"

_**March 14th, 2011**_

_A jeep drove down the country lane towards the village of Sydmonton, to visit Alan's friend and colleague Dr Cole Drake. It had been a little over three months since the war between the East and West had finally come to an end; after two years of bloodshed and destruction, China and Russia had finally abandoned their plans of constructing nuclear missile launch stations on the moon and declared peace with the United States and its European allies. World War III, the first nuclear war of the 21st century, which had claimed the lives of nearly a billion people worldwide, including more than half of the British population, was over, leaving behind a ravaged world with a ruined global economy to recover. _

_Alan had returned from China, where he had served as an enlisted marine, as well as having spent many months as a prisoner of war in a concentration camp, overjoyed to find his family had survived the war. After being granted a discharge from the army, having refused a preposition for a military career because of his wartime performance, he had returned to civilian life as a university professor, intent on remaining close to his family from there on._

_A little raven-haired girl with hazel eyes, identical to her father's, shook her fathers' sleeve, as she pointed up at Watership Down, "Daddy, isn't Hazel's warren up there?" _

_"It sure is, Squirt," replied a happy Alan Johnson as he ruffled his daughters' hair with one hand, while keeping the other firmly on the wheel. "Tell you what," he said, having come up with a sudden idea to give his family a treat, "After we pick up Dr Drake from Nuthanger Farm, maybe we can climb the Down and have our picnic there. What do you think, honey?" He looked at his wife who smiled. "We'd love to Al." Derek Shaw, who was sitting in the back seat, chuckled._

_As they approached the rendezvous place – the edge of the footpath that led to Nuthanger Farm – they noticed Drake was nowhere to be seen. Alan sighed in exasperation, "That fellow insists on working even on picnic days! Probably holed up in his lab again and forgotten…"But suddenly, something strange caught their attention: in the distance were the ruins of Nuthanger Farm, which was supposedly deserted for years. Yet now, they could see smoke coming from behind the trees where the farmhouse stood._

"_That's odd Deke," said Alan to his friend, pointing in the direction of the old farm, "Who on earth would want to buy that rathole with all those fine condominiums being built up in Newbury?"_

_"Beats me Al, it could be another group of homeless folk using the old place as a dormitory, just like that old warehouse back there. After the war, I wouldn't be surprised if we keep finding transients huddled up in every street corner for the next ten years…" Derek suggested, staring absentmindedly in the direction of the old farm. But Alan, always a man of his instincts, still felt suspicious and swung the jeep round, heading down the footpath towards the farm._

"_There's something fishy going on in there Deke," he said as they caught sight of the outbuildings, "Look, there are no traces of any recent outdoor activity round here; a group of homeless folks living off the soup kitchen in Kingsclere, would have at least opened up the boarded-up windows! It looks almost as if whoever is in there, doesn't want to be seen or heard… What if it's another gang of renegade guerrillas preparing another terrorist bombing?" he muttered, recalling an incident with some suicide bombers that had blown up a car in Trafalgar Square a few days ago, killing a dozen people, including an MP. _

_"Well, I guess there is only one way to find out for certain."_

_They drove down the winding footpath and stopped just beyond the closed garden gate. From there they had an excellent view of the old farm. The place looked abandoned and falling into ruin; the farmhouse stood coated in overgrown weeds and ivy, just like the garden and plantation site, with all its windows boarded up to keep trespassers out. The only sign of life was the smoke coming from the chimney of the old house. Alan got out and Derek followed suit. "All right love, Deke and I are going to get a closer look. Most likely, it's nothing; but if you hear trouble, get out of here as fast as you can and send for the police," he said, tossing his wife the keys. _

_"Please be careful Alan." _

"_We will, don't worry."_

_Wading through the overgrown field that had once been the farm's plantation site, they found a hole in the fence and managed to climb into the overgrown farmyard. Alan chanced a peak through one of the boarded-up windows but saw nothing but darkness inside. The place looked completely deserted, and no one answered their knock. Then suddenly, Derek, who had gone to inspect the ruined barns beside the farmhouse, came running up to Alan, "Come and look at this. It's a bloody slaughter house in there!" _

_He led Alan to the open door of the decaying barn and they peered inside at a terrible sight: standing in rows, were a large number of bamboo frames, where the skins of wildlife, mostly red foxes, were nailed up to dry. Several tubs of water that was coloured with blood as well as piles of discarded animal bones and entrails lay in corners. The slaughterhouse was thick with flies and maggots. Gagging at the unbearable smell, they ran outside to throw up._

"_Poachers Deke," muttered Alan to Derek, who had turned a shade of green, his eyes wide as saucers, as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, "Looks like the black market is booming already with all this post-war chaos."_

"_Yes, lets get the hell out of here! We don't want to be found nosing around here," said Derek in an urgent whisper, "We can drive to Drake's cottage up in Sydmonton and send for the police from there." They hadn't moved five steps when a voice suddenly rang out across the garden._

"_TRESPASSERS! SHOOT THEM!"_

_Three hooded men armed with shotguns had appeared, and sprang at them. Alan, who had had plenty of training in martial arts, picked up a rusted pitchfork from the ground and threw it like a spear in the direction of the first henchman, as he raised his gun. The weapon found its mark straight into both of the man's kneecaps and he fell, howling in agony. Springing at his fallen opponent, he kicked the gun out of his hands, before knocking him unconscious with another powerful kick in the face._

_Derek, although not a martial artist, wasn't doing too badly either. As the second henchman took aim, he seized a log from a rotting pile of firewood beside the barn and flung it at his opponent's face before he could open fire. The man fell to the ground, choking up several loose teeth._

_As the pair turned their attention back to the third poacher who had sounded the alarm, they saw that he had slipped away while they had been preoccupied with his two henchmen, making for the road. As they raced back to the jeep, a scream was heard, followed by two gunshots in rapid succession. They reached the gate, just in time to catch a glimpse of the jeep speeding off into the distance, the escaping poacher at the wheel. As the duo run to the scene, an explosive device detonated, unleashing a geyser of blood and human flesh, which were the bodies of Mary and Lucy! Alan, petrified at the sight of the ghastly mess, which, until a minute ago, had been his wife and daughter, sunk to his knees, about to be sick again. Derek put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "I am so sorry, Alan"._

_A few days later, after the investigations were over and the coroner had confirmed that the recovered fragments brought to him in rubbish bags, were all that was left of Mary and Lucy, Alan and Derek attended the funeral at Highgate Cemetery. The police had found Alan's abandoned jeep outside Overton, but no trace of the killer. All the evidence recovered from the farm showed it was simply an amateur poaching ring, a very common occurrence in these troubled times, and with no leads on the third poacher, the search was soon called off. The other two poachers had been arrested but had mysteriously died in prison shortly thereafter, apparently from suicide. After the trial, Dr Alan Johnson began a new life of solitary confinement, slowly succumbing to his depression._

Derek looked up at his friend with sympathy and said in a low, yet firm voice, "Alan, I am telling you for the last time, what happened _wasn't your fault_! There was nothing you could have done to save them; neither of us could. You must face facts: what is done is done. It is time you got over it and started anew."

"What is your point, Derek?" asked Alan coldly, "Surely you didn't drag me all the way down here just to give me another of your confounded lectures on how to get on with my bloody life? Like you haven't been doing that enough for the past year…"

"No, it is mostly about this," Derek said, tossing a sealed envelope across the table to Alan, "It was posted to me with instructions to deliver it to you in person. I suppose because you won't open your mail or answer phone calls any more…" Fuming at his friend's disapproval, Alan opened it and read aloud. His pale face instantly turned from greyish white to a furious red.

"WHAT! An application for a _documentary_ consultant? Some sick moron thinks he can pay me so he can exploit the deaths of my wife and daughter for a publicity stunt, huh? No bloody way! You tell the sender to find another drama boy to promote his show. Merry Christmas, Deke." He got up to leave but Derek grabbed his arm, pulling him back into his seat.

"Al, wait! Listen to me. You can't keep running away forever. Just look at yourself in the mirror mate! You are wasting away, both physically and mentally. If you continue with this way of life, in another year you'll be an alcoholic living in a pauper's dormitory, or a mental institution. Unless you at least return to work, your family home will soon be lost to the tax department, leaving you on the streets with nothing. You need a way out Alan, and I am offering it to you as a friend. If you can't do it for me, then do it for _them_. They would have wanted you to resume your life, not waste it in mourning and isolation!" He gave Alan another pleading look, like a dog comforting its distraught master.

"You never give up do you Deke?" asked Alan, finally giving in at the mention of his late family, but only half-heartedly, "Fine, I accept the job. However, I will make myself clear on one thing right now: The deaths of my family are not to be exploited in any way whatsoever for publicity. They are not even to be mentioned on camera. Understood?"

"Okay, I'll make sure of that. Besides, I will also be coming with you as the engineering consultant for the bombs the Chinese dropped over New Forest." During the war, Station Omega, the largest military satellite intercept and radio decipher station in the country, had been established in a secret location in New Forest National Park. When word of this complex had reached enemy Intelligence, they had launched a pre-emptive strike, including the use of their new TACO missiles, levelling everything from Totton to Ringwood and leaving the area infested with fallout like Chernobyl, as well as a magnet for the media, "The contract says we will be doing most of the observation by air, since New Forest is still a restricted zone…"

"They don't expect me to be the pilot too, right?" asked Alan, "I haven't flown in ages…"

"No worries mate. The reporter has already hired a local pilot to fly us over New Forest. All expenses are covered by his company, plus we each get a £1,500 cheque; that should help you make a fresh start. We are expected to meet him and the pilot in Newbury this coming Thursday. I'll email him tonight and tell him you've accepted. All right, come on let's get cracking. I will call by your apartment tomorrow to help you pack. Goodnight Al, and a Merry Christmas to you."

"You too, Deke," Alan replied grimly, fighting the urge to yell at his friend to give him a break with his sympathy. Derek raised an eyebrow, "What happened to the Alan Johnson I once knew?" Before his friend could retort however, a fat man in a mechanic's uniform, who had been eavesdropping from the table next to theirs, interrupted.

"Dr Alan Johnson? My, my, Dr Psycho has come calling," he snorted rudely, chewing at his motor-oil stained fingernails, "So what's the _true_ story behind your late wife? She wasn't good enough for you or did she have a boyfriend?" Alan's eyes flashed with fury as he cracked his knuckles dangerously. Although he had been cleared of the murder charges at the trial - mostly thanks to Derek's testimony - the newspapers had continued writing hideous articles about him, questioning his sanity and even accusing him of being an accessory to the murders, further encouraging him to withdraw into solitude. Even the Rector of the University had pushed him into resigning, to avoid a scandal, further smearing his name in the process. Derek, always defensive of his friend, stood up furiously.

"You shut your pie hole or you'll find my fist down your gob, you hear?" he growled in a dangerous voice. But the grease monkey, either too full of drink or simply too dumb to get the message, took no notice, "Hey, wait a minute, let me guess. You got some hooker pregnant and didn't want to break her heart, huh?" He roared with laughter, clutching his hairy stomach. Something inside Alan snapped and he lunged at the man with the wildness of a beast from a zoo.

With a swift kick, he broke the leg off the mechanic's chair, which tilted over, sending the fat man crashing to the floor. In an instant, Alan had him pinned down, with his foot pressed hard over the man's throat, nearly chocking him.

"Get this into your skull, meatball," he hissed in a deadly voice at the now terrified grease monkey, who was struggling to breathe, "_Never…talk…about…my…family…like…that_!" Grabbing Derek's half-empty beer pint and splashed its remaining contents onto the man's face, before proceeding to trample down hard on his testicles, crushing them like nuts in a nutcracker. The fat man's high-pitched screams ringing in their ears, he turned and stormed out the door with Derek, before the commotion could attract attention, and possibly land them both in police custody for assault. They barely made it to the tube station, before the siren of a police car the bartender had summoned, was heard from around the corner of Madam Tussaud's.

**Later, at Drayton Gardens, Chelsea**

After disembarking at Earl's Court Station, Alan made his way home alone. His residence was a Victorian apartment on the first floor of an old block of flats in Drayton Court, inherited from his late parents. The street was completely deserted and he heard only his own footsteps as he walked along the icy sidewalk to number 31. Shredded war posters with tips in the event of a bombardment or a medical emergency, still hung in tatters from the lampposts and shop windows. Grimly, he mounted the stairs to the porch.

As he whipped out a key to unlock the door, his eyes fell on the glass of the window in the door. He could see his dishevelled reflection staring back at him. But it wasn't the only one; another reflection was visible beside his own, that of a human-sized rabbit… Alarmed, Alan spun round, brandishing a Commando knife, a gift from his late father, which he always carried around with him, illegal or not, his eyes scanning every inch of the street. But there was nobody in sight; just a deserted street with snow starting to accumulate all over the concrete pavements. Sighing, he put his knife back in its holster and turned back to the door.

"Too much alcohol…" he muttered grimly to himself, "Or maybe I do need a psychiatrist after all…" Swiftly, he entered, slamming the door behind him in frustration. The hallway was dark and silent, aside from some light coming in from the side windows. The apartments were deserted, most of the neighbours having died in the war and their families moved away. His only remaining neighbour was Mrs Hanson, his old housekeeper and concierge of the building, who occupied the basement apartment.

Without bothering to even flick on the light, Alan blindly climbed the stairs to the door on the first landing. His apartment was the largest in the building, taking up most of the first floor, with views on either side of the block. Unlocking the shabby door, he entered, locking it behind him.

Although his apartment was gloomy and melancholy, it still had the air of a place that held many memories. He strode through the parlour, down a narrow corridor to his office, where he had spent most of the past year, drinking away his sorrows in privacy. A large 18th century Chippendale desk, surrounded by bookcases along the walls, stood in the centre of the room, with a battered brass sign that once stood on his university desk instead, spelling:

DR ALAN JOHNSON; ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR.

DEPARTMENT OF BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES,

ROYAL UNIVERSITY OF LONDON.

Behind the desk was a pair of French- glass-windows that led to a balcony that had been converted to a greenhouse by a transparent tent erected across the railings. This served as Alan's home laboratory, where he'd test various experimental fertilizers or grow plants under different experimental conditions for his students to use in the university lab. However, the place had been left unattended for months, following his resignation, the plants all having rotted away into a foul-smelling mess, giving the balcony an air of neglect.

Alan sat down at his messy desk, looking down at an open photo album, where his grim life's story was recorded in the form of photographs: himself at age ten sitting beside the Christmas tree in 1988 with his father and older brother Royce (their mother had died giving birth to Alan), a family safari trip in 1989 where their father had died of malaria; himself with his brother in orphanage attire; himself as a teenager in 1996 alongside Derek Shaw and two other close friends, with a banner bearing the words, _'Meet The Hard Boys; AJ, Deke, Hotdog and Fields'_, stretched before them. More photos of his older self in a tuxedo with his wife beside him at their wedding in 2002, a photo of him surrounded by his family and friends, his then infant daughter in his wife's arms in 2005. Finally, himself in a marine's uniform shortly before his departure for China in 2009, a photograph of their reunion in 2011, followed by a large number of empty pages from when he had stopped collecting photographs of his life.

In spite of his painful memories flashing in his mind, his friend's words kept repeating themselves over and over in his head: _"Get on with your life."_ Tossing aside the album, he went to the kitchen and took a small saucepan of tinned beef broth sitting on the stove. He returned to the lounge and made himself comfortable on the sofa to eat his dinner.

As he looked around for the remote to switch on the news, he noticed his favourite book, _Watership Down_ by Richard Adams, lying on the coffee table. He picked it up with a faint smile, remembering how many times his daughter had asked him or his wife to read it to her before bedtime. Getting up from the couch, he walked into his daughter's bedroom and placed it onto her empty bed, a tear rolling down his face. Walking back to the lounge, picking up a beer from the fridge on the way, he heard the newsman speaking.

_"The mysterious weather phenomenon that has being observed in the sky over New Forest for the past three days still persists. Resembling an Aurora Borealis, yet unlike any other ever observed before, it is one of the most curious phenomena ever observed. Since the evening of the 21__st__, this Aurora has been glowing in the atmosphere every night, over a region that has never had one before. The origin of this phenomenon remains uncertain, although there are a few theories that it may be linked to the intense radiation in the former New Forest National Park, and even the popular foretold 2012 event. This is the BBC News Home Service…"_

Feeling exhausted, Alan switched off the television and half-dragged himself to bed. As he drifted off to sleep, his usual nightmares paid him their usual visit; only this time, he saw the murderous poacher materialize into a giant one-eyed rabbit with an evil glare that starts laughing maniacally, tormenting him. As he stares to the ground where the bodies of his family lay, he sees they have vanished and replaced with a group of dying giant rabbits, their blood spreading across the grass, as they moaned in agony. One stretches out its paws in his direction as if begging him for help. He tries to reach out only to find his body is frozen stiff, paralysed. He tries unsuccessfully to fight it, all the time he face frozen at the sight of the dying rabbits, the one-eyed rabbit's malicious laughter ringing in his ears. Unable to bear it anymore, he screams…

Alan sat up in bed, drenched in cold sweat and shaking violently. Maybe his decision to go on this trip would do him more harm than good?

Unable to get back to sleep, he got out of bed and went back to the kitchen, seeking his finest remedy: alcohol. Rumbling through the nearly empty drinks cupboard, he found a bottle of Jack Daniels and a can of lime soda. Taking a glass from the sink, as well as a full ice tray from the freezer, he returned to the lounge. Making himself comfortable on the sofa, he tried to read the newspaper he had discarded earlier that day. There was an article on the upcoming next manned mission to the moon in 2019, as well as a report on the mysterious Aurora over Hampshire, but nothing to take his mind of his tormenting memories. Frustrated, he tossed away the paper and returned to his drink, draining it in large gulps, like water through a sieve.

Soon the alcohol had started making him feel drowsy, with the bottle of whiskey quickly dwindling. His vision swam, as he stared at the pictures of his dead relatives that decorated the walls of the living room: his parents Jack and Susan, and his brother Royce, who had always felt bitterness towards him because it had been his birth that had taken their mother away from them. He had perished at sea during the war, without ever making amends with his brother. Also, there was his brother-in-law Miles, who had also died from a heart attack last year, and finally his wife and daughter, who had been butchered by that unknown poacher shortly thereafter. In his drunken state, he saw the people in the pictures come to life and with a loud crash, burst out of their glass frames, as if intending to grab him. He screamed and threw his hands in front of his face, trying to defend himself. Then he realised he was only brushing away thin air…

He looked around again and realised it was morning; another long night of nightmares and mental torment was over. Then he suddenly became aware that he wasn't alone; Derek was standing beside him, the waste bin in his hand, with the empty whiskey bottle smashed inside it where he had thrown it. A perfect wake up call.

"Derek, what the hell are you trying to do, give me a heart attack? How did you get in?" Alan groaned, sitting up and rubbing his sore temples, fighting the urge to be sick from the hangover.

"Mrs Hanson let me in. Bloody hell Al, did you have to hit the booze again?" Derek said, holding up the bin that contained the pieces of the broken bottle in disapproval. The old housekeeper had become so upset with Alan getting dangerously drunk all the time that she agreed to let Derek into Alan's apartment whenever he didn't answer the door, although she refused to go in herself. Perhaps she thought the burly Derek Shaw was a better nurse for the drunken professor than she. Alan sat up.

"I just wanted to get a buzz, so kill me," he groaned, as he walked over to the kettle and put some water on to boil. Then, feeling the contents of his stomach about to spill, he rushed to the bathroom and threw up. Derek shook his head.

"No thank you Al, the police are already on their toes with a case of disappearance. The last thing they need is a stiff on their hands." Alan, his stomach now cleansed of the alcohol, reappeared with a box of aspirins, "Huh, what disappearance? Who?"

"Your old boss's family, Al. Like they just vanished into thin air," Derek replied, tossing Alan a copy of the _London Gazette_. The headline read:

'_SCIENTIST'S FAMILY MISSING _

_WIFE AND SON OF DR COLE DRAKE VANISH WITHOUT A TRACE. KIDNAPPING SUSPECTED.'_

Dr Cole Drake, a famous British scientist of Russian ancestry, was another of Alan's university colleagues. A Nobel-awarded lead scientist in bioengineering as well as another keen conservationist, with whom Alan had formed a close partnership, his life's research focused on projects involving cloning genetically enhanced species, to replace their endangered counterparts in the rapidly crumpling environment, with Alan combining his own zoological work to the project. Then the outbreak of the war had forced them to postpone work. After the war, Alan had been about to resume his work with Drake, when the deaths of his wife and daughter had caused him to give up his career altogether and they had since lost touch.

"Drake gave a statement to the police, that they left home yesterday to go to a concert at the Royal Albert Hall and never returned. Some suspect it might be a case of kidnapping, although nobody has made any demands so far. Weird, huh? Why would Drake's wife and son just take off like that? Although rumours say he was more dedicated to his work than his family…" said Derek sarcastically as Alan looked up from the newspaper.

"How the hell should I know Deke? Look, lets just forget it and get down to business. The sooner this crap is over, the happier I'll be," he snapped, not in the mood to discuss the matter concerning Drake. He was just a former colleague of his and nothing more. The work they had been doing together was no longer his concern anyway; he had given it all up the day his wife and daughter had died, along with everything else.

They spent the rest of the morning packing. After lunch, Derek returned to his apartment in Hammersmith, to do his own packing. He returned to Alan's apartment in the evening, who agreed to put him up for the night. After ordering hot pizza for dinner, they settled down to watch a movie. That night, with Derek snoring in the guest room, Alan drifted off to bed, where his usual nightmares returned to torment him as they had done every night for the past year…

**Author's note:** Hallo, behold the long awaited 'Watership Down, the new world' fanfic! The 'war' mentioned is a fictional Third World War (2009-2011) between the East and West, namely the United States against China (I started writing this story in 2008, so everything occurring from that point onwards is fictional in this story). Although some locations mentioned in this story are real, such as the coffee shop on Baker Street and Alan's apartment in Drayton Court, some others such as the flight club in Sandleford Park are fictional. By the way, the character Derek Shaw is created in the memory of actor Robert Shaw, whose son Ian, provided the voice of Hazel in the WD TV series. Please do read and enjoy. And please review! All reviews are appreciated and the more I receive the quicker I will update.


	2. Chapter 2 The Mysterious Documentarian

**December 26th, 2012**

Alan and Derek drove along the country road towards Newbury, in Alan's jeep. Despite being in better spirits than the night at the coffee shop, the biologist still looked pretty moody, deliberately avoiding conversation. Although his freshly shaven face had regained some of its colour and the dark shadows in his eyes were slowly beginning to recede, he was still just at the beginning of his recovery.

Upon arriving in Newbury, they went straight to the hotel when they were supposed to rendezvous with the documentarian and their pilot. After a short wait by the fire in the reception, the stern-faced concierge came up to them, "Drs Shaw and Johnson?" he asked timidly.

"Aye. Has Mr. Robbins arrived yet?" asked Derek, looking up the documentarian's name in his notepad. The concierge nodded, "Yes sir. He and Captain Andre are expecting you. Please follow me." Motioning to the bellboy to take their luggage up to their rooms, the concierge led them into the hotel lounge. Seated at a table at the far end were two men, expecting them. The first one was a lanky young man in his late-twenties, with a Spanish accent, wearing a threadbare pilot's uniform; the second was tall with sleek black hair, and a thin, shallow-skinned face that seemed to curl into a slight sneer whenever he spoke. His all-black garments, which resembled that of an undertaker, gave Alan the chills. The concierge approached the shallow-skinned man and whispered in his ear. The man nodded and turned to greet the newcomers.

"Good afternoon gentlemen," he said, shaking hands with Alan and Derek, "I am Russell Robbins of _Road Show Documentaries_ and this is Captain Julio Andre, our pilot. Bartender, two more pink gins for my guests please," he called, raising his hand towards the barman, who hurried to get the drinks. The pilot also offered his hand to shake, uttering a greeting in fluent Spanish. After introductions were made, Alan and Derek made themselves comfortable, to get to know their new employer better.

"So what's your field, Mr Robbins? War impact documenting?" Alan asked as he sipped his drink, his eyes staring at Robbins with suspicion; he didn't know if he liked this man or not.

"War, wildlife, drama, you name it… And in every extraordinary place imaginable; Africa, Krakatoa, China, British Columbia, you name it. _Road Show Documentaries_ doesn't miss a place, not when it means good documentary material. As I always say, 'we immortalise what we document'."

"Indeed, all these 'extraordinary places' you speak of will most likely only exist in your documentaries by the next century," Alan said grimly, remembering the RSPCA expressing concern that with all the fallout left behind from the war, pollution levels were now in the red, and escalating.

"I have been told the fallout areas in the Park are still under restriction and only accessible by air. How are we to conduct our observations and shoot our footage?" Derek inquired but Robbins reassured him, "I have chartered us a Cessna from the local flight club, that will fly us over the region. Of course, I had to pull a few strings for permission to fly low enough to shoot the footage, but we'll manage just fine. No problem."

That night, after they had retreated to their rooms to get some shut-eye for tomorrow's flight, Alan lay awake in bed, his mind going over this mysterious documentarian Robbins. He couldn't help but feel that he knew this man from somewhere before, although he was sure the name Russell Robbins was one he had never heard before in his life. The man had looked rather suspicious and Alan felt sure that he had seen something familiar in those deep black eyes more than once during that evening. He turned to point out his suspicions to Derek, only to find his friend snoring loudly on the second bed beside his.

Dismissing his thoughts, he removed his glasses and sunk into a deep sleep. His old nightmares paid him their usual visit that night, only this time they were filled with images of the documentarian Robbins, who stood laughing maniacally at him, his hands dripping in the blood of his slaughtered wife and daughter…

With a scream, Alan woke up in a cold sweat…

Meanwhile, Robbins, safely within in the privacy of his own room, was making a call on his cell phone, keeping his voice to a minimum in case someone in the corridor could hear him, "Everything is set; Johnson and Shaw have arrived on schedule and don't suspect a thing. Is everyone briefed and ready?" A gruff voice with a deep, foreign accent answered him.

"_Yes, Shelton says you will be the only ones flying at the club tomorrow, and the staff are all on Christmas leave, so there's no fear of any witnesses on that end. Remember, after you're in control, disable all communications as Shelton instructed you, take the aircraft below radar interception altitude, and head for the landing coordinates we sent you. Sven will be waiting at the rendezvous place with Samir for the pick- up. Has your arsenal been delivered yet?_"

"Yes, it's all here," Robbins replied, caressing an open package lying on the bed. Inside it was, what appeared to be, a journalist's video camera kit. However, as Robbins opened the lid that supposedly housed the tape, instead it contained a concealed stun gun, fully charged. The camera's battery pack was also another decoy, instead housing a concealed revolver with two 20-round magazines alongside. Even the transportation strap was a fake, containing a strangulation cord sawn in the insulation; Robbins' journalist kit was an assassin's arsenal! The man chuckled evilly, making sure his gear was in good working order before carefully repacking everything back in their secret housing, muttering, "Johnson and Shaw are in for a big surprise tomorrow!"

_"Excellent. We'll have a pint to celebrate tomorrow evening at Headquarters. I'll have your cheque, new passport and visa ready, so the authorities can officially declare you dead…again. You can leave the country for a while then, as you requested. Good luck tomorrow, dear boy!"_ Robbins smiled as he hung up; everything was going like clockwork.

On the morning of 27th the big moment had finally arrived. After a quick breakfast, the four men were on their way to the airstrip in Sandleford Park, to catch their flight to New Forest. Alan, who was the biological consultant and therefore would be doing most of his work after the footage and photographs were shot, only needed his binoculars, camera and notebook to take down notes for his report on the fallout caused by the missiles. However, to save him the hassle of carrying everything in a bulgy backpack, he had brought along his old marine vest, which could accommodate all his gadgets in its many pockets.

Derek had brought along his traditional work satchel, containing his camera and laptop. Robbins's baggage consisted of his camera kit - their main arsenal for the trip. Small in size, the kit could easily be used within the confined space of the cabin, by supposedly being passed around for different-angled shots through the windows…or so Alan and Derek had been told. Julio, who would only need to fly the plane to New Forest and back, only carried a small briefcase containing his pilot accessories, including his flight logs, an aerial chart of the restricted zone and a small brass compass, which he told them, was his good-luck talisman. By ten o'clock, they were on their way.

After a short drive out of Newtown, across the frozen Enborne River, they reached the flight club. It was nothing spectacular to behold; a former World War II airstrip once used for RAF squadron training, now having been converted to a civilian outfit, with a small log cabin on the edge housing the radio shack and pilots' locker room, as well as a small open hanger on the edge of the field, where the club's aircraft were kept. A rusting metal sign on the fence read:

SUTCH AND MARTIN'S FLIGHT CLUB

ESTABLISHED IN 1972

CONQUER THE SKIES BOLD PILOT!

GLIDERS, CESSNAS, AND PIPERS FOR HIRING

OR FLYING LESSONS BY APPOINTMENT

Tom Shelton, a thin balding flight controller and manager of the club, greeted them and led them into a small locker room at the back of the shack. Each man was given a pilot's thermal jacket, which would be needed for the flight, along with a pair of headsets for the radio. After stowing their coats and other non-essential items in the lockers provided, Julio led the way to the edge of the runway where a shabby Cessna 172 Skyhawk stood waiting for takeoff. They boarded.

"Okay _senores_. You can stow your belongings under your seats or in the aft locker; you should be able to reach them easily during the flight. Now, the morning forecast reports fair weather with scattered clouds at 10,000ft; that should guarantee us an easy flight over New Forest, so you can do your work. However, I would appreciate if you keep your seatbelts fastened at all times, as a precaution for turbulence. Any questions?"

"Yes, would it be all right if I keep this activated during the flight? It has a flight-safe mode," Robbins said, showing Julio his cell phone, which had an in-built GPS, supposedly to track the coordinates of where the enemy missiles had struck (nobody knew it was actually for tracking a beacon his associates had set up at a another deserted airstrip deep in New Forest, where they were waiting to ambush the group on touchdown. To everyone's surprise, Julio jerked away as Robbins brought the cell-phone close to his face, "What's the matter with you man?"

"Please keep any devices with magnetic fields away from me _senor_," Julio said, easing up, "It might disrupt my pacemaker." They all frowned at this, "_Pacemaker_? Are you sure it's safe to be flying solo with a heart condition?"

"Nothing to worry about _senores_," replied Julio reassuringly, "I have been through hundreds of medical tests and I have passed my physical; it was the Flight Administration that recommended the pacemaker implant in the first place, after I found I had a heart condition passed down through my family. I assure you, there is no cause for alarm." Although the pilot seemed confident of his health, his passengers still felt rather uneasy. However, there wasn't much that they could do about it now, so they decided to just forget about it and prepared for takeoff.

"All right, _Senor_ Johnson, you can seat next to me to help me with the checklist." Alan seated himself in the co-pilot's seat, strapped his seatbelt firmly around his waist, and picked up the checklist clipboard. Julio started the master and avionics, and spoke into his radio, "232-G to SAM Control. Do you copy, over?"

"_232-G, I read you loud and clear. You are clear for takeoff,_" the flight controller back in the radio shack replied over the radio.

"Any updates on weather conditions?" Julio asked, "_Radar station reports some heavy frontal activity and building turbulence approaching from the east. We recommend you keep a tight schedule to avoid interception." _

"Roger and out."

They taxied to the edge of the runway, where Julio braked for the final pre-flight check. While Alan read and ticked off at the checklist, Julio set the instruments and controls, "Master switch, on", "Avionics, on", "Mixture, on", "Ignition, off" "Trim, set and configured", "Pitch, set and configured", "Panel lights, off", "Anti-ice, on", "Altimeter, check", "Airspeed indicator, check", "Artificial horizon, check", "Radio, set and checked", Transponder, set", "Fuel, 25lbs", "GPS, on-line and tracking", "Autopilot, set to manual and checked", "Flaps, zero", "Doors, windows, seatbelts, and baggage, secure."

"Checklist complete. Releasing parking brakes!"

Julio gently pushed the throttle lever forward. The plane taxied along the runway until it reached a speed of 85 knots. Then he pulled back on the stick and the undercarriage left the ground. The plane continued to climb until the altimeter touched 12,000ft. Then Julio engaged the autopilot and the plane levelled itself on a southwesterly heading for New Forest. Following the chart on the GPS, the autopilot guided the aircraft on its designated flight path. Their flight had begun, but their _real_ adventure hadn't even started yet...

**Author's note:** The TACO missiles (Tackle and Conquer) are a fictional type of nuclear warhead used for bombings during World War III, resulting in radioactive fallout in Southern England. The scheme with Robbins will be explained later. Enjoy and please review!


	3. Chapter 3 Flight into the unknown

As the plane flew over New Forest, the group set to work. Below, the countryside was slowly turning ravaged and barren, testifying to the recent bombings. As they entered the restricted zone, the signs of desolation increased. With a map on his lap, and monitoring the GPS, Alan pinpointed locations where the TACO missiles had fallen and marked their locations, which would be needed to draw up a statistics chart for his report. Derek smiled, as he helped Robbins prepare the cameras, glad to see his friend finally starting to emerge from his shell.

Suddenly, a warning announcement of an approaching thunderstorm came from the flight club Control, "_232-G, do you copy, over? Weather station reports a storm entering your flight path. Severe wind sheers and hail reported over New Forest area at your twelve o'clock, moving in from the north at 8,000 ft." _

"We will be going through there SAM Control. Over," replied Julio, preparing to increase the thrust to compensate for the crosswind.

"_Negative on that. Radar station reports it's too severe. We recommend you turn to heading 270 and circle around it. Ten miles ought to do it."_

"Roger that, SAM Control. Turning to heading 270." Julio disengaged the autopilot and switched back to manual control, to alter the heading. The plane left its original course and turned westward on a circling pattern around the storm. Little did they realise this seemingly insignificant course alteration was sending them straight into another storm…one non-traceable by any weather station and unlike anything anyone had ever – or would ever – encounter.

"Excuse me, but we still have a job to do," snapped Robbins irritably, displeased that they were diverting from their carefully charted flight plan, "Surely this tin pot can take some hail, can't it?"

"I doubt you would be able to do much observing in such heavy turbulence and low visibility. Also, I am afraid flight regulations wouldn't stand for it. I am sorry _senor_, but I can't risk having my licence revoked for dangerous flying; my living depends on it. What's more, the boss would have my head if this plane needs a new coat of paint, and it's only just been serviced…" They circled round and started heading west, flying straight into the region where the mysterious Aurora had been reported spotted on the news every night for the past few days.

"You are still under contract. I demand that you do what I am paying you for…!" Robbins was saying but then fell silent, realising he would just have to…speed up things his way. Making sure nobody was watching him, he reached into his journalist kit, about to draw his concealed weapon, when the unexpected happened…

Suddenly, without warning, a violent shock shook the plane; everyone was jolted in their seats, dropping their things to the floor. Julio glanced at the GPS screen to get a weather reading, confused, given that the approaching storm was over five miles away, but there was nothing ahead. In another instant, the screen had blacked out altogether.

"What the hell was that?"

Before they knew what was happening, the plane's entire electrical system had gone haywire, all the instrument dancing madly, before blacking out; even the magnetic compass above the windshield was dancing like mad, as if caught in some sort of powerful magnetic interference.

"Mayday, mayday! SAM Control, this is 232-G. We have multiple electrical system malfunctions. Requesting emergency guidance. Do you read me SAM Control, over?" Julio yelled into his headset. The men listened desperately as the crackling static died and then the radio was gone along with the rest of the electrical system. But none of them were prepared for what followed next.

The sun had suddenly started moving at an alarming speed, spinning through its quarters, going faster and faster until it became a golden arc in the sky. The morning sky dissolved into a blinking twilight, like a series of repeating camera flashes, making it painful to stare at directly. Then, the twilight suddenly vanished and the sky became a dark, blood-like red, reducing all visibility to zero, followed by a series of violent turbulence that threatened to knock the plane out of the sky. Julio and Alan fought to keep the aircraft level, praying that the force wouldn't break up the fuselage and send them plummeting to their deaths below. But before they knew it, it stopped as quickly as it had started.

The cabin lights slowly flickered back to life, revealing a scene of total chaos: all four men were shaky, pale as marble, drenched in sweat, their eyes wide as saucers, but otherwise unharmed. It was then that Alan realised that the plane was going down in a nosedive. Grabbing the controls, he pulled back on the co-pilot's stick, trying to level out.

"Julio, help me goddammit! What's the matter with you? Julio!" Looking to his left, he saw the pilot lying forward in his seat, in convulsions; his weight was pressing against the stick, sending the plane plummeting downwards. Derek, in the seat behind him, pulled him back by his shirt collar; Julio was clutching his chest in agony, his mouth foaming; he was going into cardiac arrest.

"Oh, Jesus…"

Alan, who had done first aid training with the Red Cross, knew that someone having a heart attack needed to be placed in a recovery position immediately, to prevent chocking; unfortunately, in this small cramped cabin it was impossible, and with the aircraft now rendered pilotless, as the only one left with any flying experience, he had a far greater responsibility at hand: land the plane safely. Without taking his hands off the controls, he called over his shoulder to Derek, "Tilt his head back and keep his airway open. That…lightning strike, or whatever it was that hit us, seems to have disrupted his pacemaker."

"So what the hell do we do now?" Robbins asked, a quiver of fear visible in his bossy voice as he realised their situation, "Are you a pilot, professor? And if we make it out of this, I am suing that idiot Shelton for hiring a pilot with a heart condition…"

"I had a few lessons as a student but never soloed. I haven't even flown in ten years," Alan said, ignoring Robbins' ranting, his mind working furiously on recalling his instructor's teachings. By that time, they had become aware of more inexplicable mysteries: it was no longer _day_ outside, but _night_, the near-full moon clearly visible in the sky. It was almost as if time had suddenly and inexplicably shifted by twelve hours or so. To add to their amazement, a faint luminous belt had appeared in the sky, forming an arc in the sky between the Earth and the moon; a new asteroid belt had materialised around the Earth, forming a ring around their planet, much like the asteroid rings of Saturn or Uranus.

Derek, still keeping Julio's head tilted back sideways, to prevent the semi-conscious pilot from chocking on his own saliva, stared out the window at the darkness below, "What the hell just happened? Where are we? What's going on? Alan, get on that radio, will ya? Let's find out what's going on down there." Careful not to change the frequencies that Julio had set, Alan spoke into his headset.

"SAM Control, this is 232-G, declaring an emergency. The pilot is down; I need instructions for an emergency landing. Do you read me, over?" There was no answer. Turning to the transponder, he turned it to frequency 7777 - the radar SOS mode - to alert all stations in the vicinity of their situation, "I repeat, the pilot is down; we need help!" Again, no answer could be heard other than faint static crackling.

"The flight club is not responding. We need another frequency." He turned to Julio, who was turning blue by now, barely conscious, "Julio, I need your help here. Which is the frequency for the emergency aircraft band?" Behind him, Derek gently slapped the man over the cheeks, trying to revive him somewhat before proceeding to ventilate him with an emergency oxygen bottle he had found under his seat. At first it seemed that the man couldn't hear them and Alan was about to resort to trying fiddling with the radio himself, when Julio, having somewhat recovered from inhaling a high oxygen concentration, mouthed, "Twelve…five thousand hertz."

Alan instantly turned to frequency 125,000, the emergency aircraft band, and tried again. Nothing. Finally, he resorted to switch to a restricted RAF frequency he knew from his war career, despite the fact that it was strictly against aviation regulations. Still, he could be the first to alert the Air Force that all radio stations within their range of communication had suddenly gone off the air. Unfortunately, instead of hearing the voice of some furious flight controller threatening to report him if he didn't get off the band, he only heard the same silence, broken by the occasional crackling static.

"I am not getting jack-shit anywhere. Even the satellite uplink for the GPS has gone off the air," he said, noticing the blank navigation screen, "What is going on here?"

"But that's impossible," Derek said, "Emergency and military aircraft bands are _never_ off the air. "Maybe we could try with something else? Wait a minute…" he said, taking out his cell phone. While Alan did a full system's check, trying to determine the glitch, Derek and Robbins tried their phones but only got a complete network failure indication; even the computer's state-of-the-art iridium wireless router kept hitting dead ends on every server, unable to pick up any network signal. It was almost as if all communication stations - on the ground or in the air - had suddenly ceased to exist. They still had the aircraft's one-way, low-frequency distress transmitter, installed in the tail for use in the event of a crash, but it would undoubtedly only yield the same results.

"Well, I guess we have to face facts," Alan finally said in a surprisingly calm tone, "We are completely on our own, so we have no choice but to rely on _ourselves_ to get through this." Remembering from his training and experiences during his time in the Royal Marines, the words of his late commanding officer were still fresh in his mind: _"In desperate circumstances, panic is your worst enemy. Never allow it to overcome you if you wish to survive."_ And currently, he could sense a dangerous tension in the back, which could result in a panic; and the nervous muttering of his two scared companions told him that such a situation seemed imminent.

"Just look at that!" Derek gasped, "There are not even any lights visible on the ground, not even those of moving cars on the highway. Why isn't there any traffic? _What_ is happening down there? Nuclear strike?" He suddenly froze in mid-sentence; they all looked horrified at each other, their minds jumping to the same awful realisation.

"You are thinking what I am thinking, right? That shock we experienced was a falling bomb that has swept away everything below us, which is why all radio stations on the ground have gone dead," Derek reasoned, "But then again, how come _we_ weren't blown out of the sky by the blast? Why wasn't there any mushroom cloud…?" But Alan interrupted him.

"Look, I don't know what to say fellas, but I do know _this_: this plane can't stay up here forever. Our remaining fuel will only last another hour at most. We have to find a landing site somewhere and we have to do it fast."

"But _where?_ We can't see a damn thing below us and we have no radio guidance. We would just be descending blindly to our deaths…!" Derek snapped, gesturing towards the darkness. Sensing an imminent panic, Alan quickly turned round to face his two nervous companions.

"All right, calm down. I SAID, CALM DOWN! Now, listen up you two and listen good! I am going to make this clear right now: _panic is not allowed_. Everybody is to remain calm, so we can figure a way out of this. Do I make myself clear?" They quietened down as the former marine went on speaking, assessing their situation in a professional manner.

"A safe landing in this darkness with no guidance or communication is unlikely; but to keep flying up here in circles forever is _guaranteed_ _suicide_. We have to find someplace to land, blindly or not, and we have to do it before our fuel runs out. Unless someone has an alternative?"

"Perhaps we should try for the nearest city? Southampton perhaps? Major airports are always equipped for aviation emergencies," Robbins suggested. Alan shook his head, "One of the busiest airports in the country with no idea what's the situation on the ground? Forget it, it's too dangerous and I am not even qualified to fly us that far. No, an emergency landing simply requires a flat, desolate area, like the countryside below. If we can't do it, I can always take us back up and we will fly down to the coast. A Cessna can make a safe landing on the shoreline..."

"Can't we hold out till daylight, when we have visibility?" Derek suggested, not looking the least keen in attempting to land blindly. Alan shook his head, "No, we don't have the fuel to fly round in circles till daybreak…_whenever_ that is. We shall have to take our chances now." With no other choice, they finally decided to go with Alan's plan and attempt the seemingly impossible.

"Alright, let's get on with it then and keep our fingers crossed," Robbins said, finalising the argument, "So how do we do this, professor?"

"Well…" Alan said looking rather uneasy; although he knew how to keep the aircraft under control on his own, he still didn't have much experience. "Since we have no communication or navigation aids, it has to be done _visually_ all the way. We can use the landing lights to detect any ground obstacles at close range as we come in. In this darkness, we can never hope to find the flight club runway. Fortunately, the surrounding area is open country and mostly flat terrain, which gives us a fighting chance…in _theory_."

In spite of his confidence, Alan couldn't help but feel there were still too many odds to play with. Would they be able to make a safe landing in this darkness? And even if they did, what if the air at ground level had become a layer of poisonous gas from that…that _thing_? Perhaps the fallout was so toxic, it would be impossible to venture outside, and leaving them trapped inside the crashed plane till they suffocated, or, worse, interrupted the plane's systems as they came in for landing? Fallout ash was dense and could easily get sucked up into the carburettor, causing the engine to choke up instantly… But there was no time for another plan.

Taking the plane around, he set course for the approximate location of the flight club, intent on getting as close as he could figure, so they wouldn't be far from help when they crash-landed. Using only his speedometer and watch to determine the distance they had covered, he prepared for the descent, "All right, Derek, look into the seat pocket in front of you; there should be the pilot's flight manual in there somewhere." Derek found it and opened it up on his lap, "All right Al, what do you need?"

"Look for something called normal procedures; landing approach speeds and flaps control," Alan replied, watching his instruments. Derek flipped through the pages and read aloud, "'Landing Approach Speed: 70 knots, flaps: 30 degrees.'"

"All right, 70 knots, 30-degrees flaps. Reducing power, nose down." He gently pushed the stick forward and started the descent, using two small peaks visible against the night sky, to help him to pinpoint the approximate location of the flight club runway. Silently praying that he was heading in the right direction and carefully watching the readings on his instruments, he started their descent. With only about 200 feet to go, the landing lights suddenly revealed the ground, which, to their utmost horror, was covered by thick woodland; there was no runway or any ground for a safe landing as they had hoped.

"Damn, the terrain is crappy! Pull up!" Derek bellowed. But Alan, seeing his decreasing airspeed, realised it was impossible to abort the landing now, "No, it's too late now; we are going in as we are. Everybody kneel forward and put your heads between your knees, hands over your head!" he yelled, not daring to take his hands off the controls, his eyes nailed to the windshield, weary of a white mist obstructing the view of his landing lights, which seemed to thicken as they neared the ground. He paled; could it be a layer of heavier-than-air poisonous gas unleashed by the fallout? Staring ahead, he could see the trees thinning out as they flew over a plain; this was his chance. They all knelt down and put their heads between their knees as instructed, bracing for a crash landing.

The plane suddenly touched down with a violent thud, mowing its way through the thick undergrowth, the prop chopping away everything in its path. Alan quickly hit the fuel cut-off switch to stop the engine and pulled hard on the speed brakes control, but the plane continued to skid forward, gradually slowing down. Suddenly, it gave a powerful jolt as the undercarriage struck an obstacle and stopped dead; all four men were thrown forward, their faces impacting hard with the forward seats and the control panel. The prop gave a few more turns and finally ground to a halt as the engine shut down.

Alan shook his head, trying to clear the stars from his vision. His mouth tasted like blood and everything was spinning around him, giving him the urge to vomit. Turning, he saw Derek wiping a bloody nose and Robbins nursing a black eye, but otherwise unharmed. He had done it; not exactly the kind of landing that would qualify him as pilot of the year, but safe nonetheless. Hastily switching off the master switch to cut all power in case of fuel leaks, he turned to his companions, who were undoing their seatbelts, eager to get out.

"Wait, nobody move from your seats yet! Not until we've checked the air outside." Although it hardly mattered since they couldn't take off anymore and the plane wasn't even a pressurized aircraft to keep any toxic fallout at bay until help could get there, they had to be careful. Instructing Derek and Robbins to don the emergency oxygen bottles under their seats as a safety precaution, Alan grasped the door handle, hesitating; perhaps it meant death to open it? Taking a deep breath, he called, "Close your eyes and keep your masks firmly pressed over your mouth and nose! Here we go…"

Shutting his own eyes, bracing for a probable wave of red-hot toxic air to swarm the cabin, he opened the door ajar and inhaled from the air outside. The burning sensation of poisonous gas in his throat and eyes never came; the night air tasted wonderful and clean, with a strong odour of pollen.

"It… It's all right, I can breathe. Get those masks off!" The other two men ripped off their masks and looked at each other in utter relief. Apparently, the 'bomb' they had seen fall from the sky in flight had been nothing more than an optical illusion; the air was clean, completely untouched, while the mist of 'toxic gas' they had observed in their descent was only vapours from the surrounding marshes. Then the scent of a new, alarming odour reached their noses: aircraft fuel.

"Come on, this plane might blow! Deke, help me move him…" They turned to help Julio, only to find him lying forward in his seat; saliva and foam was still dripping from his open mouth, as he lay motionless against the control panel, his eyes vacant. Alan put his hand to his throat and felt for a pulse. The pilot's body felt cold as ice; he had succumbed to his heart attack. Alan and Derek stood petrified at the sight of the dead man.

"Forget about him, he is dead!" Robbins shouted, snapping them back to reality, "We have to get out of here now, or we'll join him when this plane goes up in flames! Let's move!"

Grabbing the plane's two emergency flashlights to penetrate the darkness outside, they jumped out, landing in ankle-deep water; they had landed in the middle of a marsh. Wading through the mud, they made it to dry ground and run away from the plane, expecting it to burst into flame at any moment. But it didn't.

After they had calmed down somewhat, overjoyed to have made it down in one piece, their relief turned to puzzlement as they took in their changed surroundings. It was almost as if that catastrophe they had seen up there hadn't happened at all. The beams of their flashlights revealed a calm and peaceful countryside all around; only animal sounds could be heard in the night. Although unbelievable, at least one thing was certain: they were safe…for now.

"If that poor blighter had only held on a few more minutes…" Alan said quietly. He knew it was highly unlikely that they would have been able to do much for him; from the moment he had seen the pilot collapse into a seizure, Alan knew it required immediate treatment in the emergency room, or death. Still, the disappointment and sorrow of being unable to help him still felt heavy on his conscience.

"I don't believe it! I don't know how this is happening, but I will bloody well take it!" Derek chuckled, wiping a trickle of sweat off his forehead, "Bloody hell, it feels so warm out here…" he said, taking off his thick thermal jacket, the others following suit, as they realised that something _was_ wrong after all: instead of the freezing winter weather they had experienced that morning, the weather was now warmer, the temperature having risen at least twelve degrees in the past hour. Derek stared in amazement at the night sky above them, "How the hell do you suppose the time zones have _shifted_?"

"I have no idea Deke, no more than as to how the flora has gone into full bloom, in the middle of bloody _winter_," Alan replied, shining his flashlight on the thick, thriving vegetation surrounding them, which was all in full bloom. "We won't get far in this darkness; we better stay here until it is light again, so we can get a better look at our surroundings. Let's all get some sleep."

Laying their useless flight jackets down on the ground under some bushes to use them as mattresses, the three men drifted off to sleep. The sky above them shown brightly with the mysterious Aurora Borealis that had just transported them to this strange new world…

Meanwhile, back at the flight club, Tom Shelton sat at his desk, munching a Danish pastry. As he looked over his magazine at the radar screen, he saw a signal indicating turbulence, entering the Cessna's flight path. But no sooner had he instructing the Cessna to alter course and circle round the storm, when he suddenly heard another transmission: a faint, highly distorted _mayday_, no doubt coming from the Cessna. Before he could even realise that something was wrong, the plane's transponder signal suddenly vanished from his screen. Shelton jumped from his chair in alarm.

"232-G, do you read me, over? 232, come in!"

After several futile attempts to re-establish contact, Shelton made a hasty call; but not to the _police_, "It's me boss. I…I think it's done. Shall I sound the alarm?" A voice with a thick Russian accent - the same person who had talked to Robbins the previous night - answered him, _"Wait a few minutes to ensure the job is done properly, then alert security as you normally would. We'll take it from here."_

**Author's note:** I have written the story, deliberately leaving the readers with questions. Don't worry; as the story moves along, all questions will be answered. Do enjoy and please review!


	4. Chapter 4 Lost in another world

**March 10****th**** 2791**

When Alan woke, it was daylight again. The Aurora had disappeared and the morning sun shone brightly overhead. He no longer felt nauseas but his head ached painfully; caressing his skull just above his hairline, he felt a little lump growing from where he had struck the pilot's console. However, he couldn't feel any dizziness or disorientation, indicating it was just a minor concussion at worst and shouldn't worry him. He turned and shook his companions awake.

Derek sat up groggily, followed by Robbins. The engineer's nose had stopped bleeding but still looked badly bruised, having turned the purple shade of a plumb. Robbins's eye had also turned a dark shade of blue but didn't look serious. Now that it was light, the three men turned to get a good look around at the mysterious, yet stunningly beautiful landscape in utter amazement.

The surrounding countryside, aside from having been inexplicably swiped clean of snow last night, had changed completely. It was as if they were in another world entirely; the day felt warm and humid, almost like mid-spring, with all vegetation in full bloom. They were in the middle of a vast meadow, surrounded by thick forest. Their crashed aircraft lay in the marsh a few yards away, looking horribly smudged and splattered with mud, but seemingly intact.

"Well, it appears the mystery has only becoming more complicated than ever. Not only have the _time zones_ shifted but now the _seasons_ have also turned topsy-turvy," Alan said staring at their unfamiliar surroundings in confusion, "Where are we?"

"If you do find out, do us a favour and share it with us, will you?" said Robbins sarcastically, staring at the sun, "What time do you suppose it is?" Alan consulted his watch, "Well, according to this, it's around nine-thirty in the _evening_; in other words bullocks." He looked up at the sun again, "With the sun in that position, I figure it's probably around eleven in the morning."

"I remember seeing those two peaks there from the airstrip before takeoff," Derek said, staring at two nearby hills to the west, "It seems you brought us back in the vicinity of the flight club. But, in that case, shouldn't we have missed it by only a few hundreds yards at most?" he said, unable to spot it in any direction.

"Then where the hell is it?" Alan said, rubbing his temple in frustration, "This _can't_ be the same place we started from! This part of the countryside is overrun by ploughed fields and farms. Why, this wilderness has not been heard of round here in a long time, at least not since the Roman era probably. It's just crazy…"

"You know, I have been thinking of a possible explanation to all these mysterious changes," Derek said, frowning, "Perhaps that shock we experienced was a gigantic asteroid that disrupted the axis of our planet as it flew by. This could explain these sudden changes in time and climate. The EM pulse generated by a passing asteroid of that size, would have been sufficient to kill most of the planet's power grids, explaining the silence on the radio and cell phones." But Alan shook his head in disagreement at Derek hypothesis.

"Interesting assumption, but it doesn't add up; an asteroid big enough to disrupt the Earth's rotation, even in the slightest, would have caused a global atmospheric disintegration and the weather conditions would be running wild. Besides, such a disturbance doesn't sweep away structures and people, but leaves the _environment_ untouched; there would have been giant earthquakes and tsunamis big enough to shake the entire planet apart. No, whatever happened, seems to have happened to _us_ alone."

"But _what_ exactly has happened to us Al?" Derek asked, feeling at a total loss, "How could the entire world just…cease to exist as a result of a _storm_ hitting us in flight? Whatever storm that was…"

"Sorry to interrupt your…most fascinating debate professors," said Robbins, interrupting the conversation, "Maybe we should focus on treating our injuries first and maybe look for some food?" Alan rolled his eyes; he hated complainers but didn't want to offend the journalist who was _paying_ them for their time and services. Derek also seemed annoyed by the man's attitude but fortunately decided to let it slide. The former marine instinctively took charge of the situation and turned to his companions.

"All right, first let's go back to the plane and salvage what we can; we need to take inventory of our supplies. Then we can look for some food." They turned and headed back to the crash site. They found the plane exactly as they had left it last night, the undercarriage, slightly battered and buckled from the rough landing, partially submerged in the mud, but otherwise intact. Julio's rigid body was visible through the side window, still strapped firmly into his seat.

Using some rocks and branches, they made a path so they could walk out to the plane without getting wet again; they moved Julio's body out first and laid it under a tree, out of sight. While Derek and Robbins stood on the makeshift pier, Alan picked up the plane's emergency kit from the baggage locker and passed it out to his companions.

Opening up the yellow box, Alan realised they didn't have much to work with: a couple of flashlights, a marker, a small hatchet, and a medical kit. There were no emergency rations, no flares, and no wilderness equipment of any kind. Even the medical kit consisted of only a handful of band-aids and sterile pads, a single icepack and a box of aspirins. Although meagre to say the least, they would just have to make due with what little they had.

Soon, Alan held the ice pack pressed against the lump on his head, before passing it between Derek, who sported a plaster on his nose, and Robbins, who had a pad over his bruised eyebrow, each man taking his turn. Once the bruising had receded somewhat, they each swallowed an aspirin to relieve the pain. Derek had also found his thermos lying on the floor of the cabin, miraculously intact, and each man enjoyed a cupful of cold coffee for breakfast.

"Before we do anything else, we better give our pilot a decent burial," Alan said, staring at Julio's lifeless form lying in the grass a short distance away, "His body is starting to smell and I don't know how long we will be stranded here…"

"Bury him?" asked Robbins incredulously, "Why bother? Let's just take the body out of the camp and dump it someplace." Alan and Derek looked appalled at their employer's cold nature.

"Just because he's dead, doesn't mean he's garbage for disposal!" Alan said sternly, "We may be stranded here for a while and an unburied corpse can quickly present a health hazard. Besides, if we lose touch with what we believe in, we'll soon be acting like animals."

"What we believe in?" asked Robbins in a sneering tone, "What, are you some religious fanatic, professor? A man of science prone to superstitious rubbish? Charming… Let's focus on more important things. Let's not waste our time digging a useless grave. I say we gather our resources, assess our situation, and make some plans, not waste time with such an unproductive task." Realising that they were getting nowhere with their conservative employer, and not in the mood for a row, Alan stepped in.

"Look, nobody asked for your help Mr Robbins. You can start salvaging whatever useful you can find from the plane, while Derek and I bury the pilot," he said, ending the argument before it could get intense, "Come on Deke, let's get started."

Using the hatchet from the plane and a couple of jabbed stones as shovels, they managed to dig a shallow grave at the foot of a nearby tree. After emptying the dead pilot's pockets, so they could return the man's possessions to his family when they were rescued, they carefully placed the corpse in the grave, and filled it in. Then, using his knife, Alan cut away a patch of the rough bark on the tree trunk and carved a cross with an inscription onto the wood:

REST IN PEACE

JULIO ANDRE

1983-2012

"We commit his soul to God and his body to the earth. May he dwell in the House of The Lord forever. In the name of The Father, The Son and The Holy Ghost. Amen." Alan said, crossing his hands in respect for the dead. After a moment of silence, they returned to the plane, to take a full inventory of their resources.

"That's all there is?" Alan said staring at the tiny assortment of items lying on a stone before them. After going through their bags carefully, they found, to their greatest dismay, that much of their fragile belongings had been damaged in the crash landing.

"Wish me luck getting back the guarantee," Derek said, emptying from his bag some loose glass fragments that had once been the screen of his laptop and the lens of his camera, which had all been shattered in the crash. Robbins' entire camera kit – save for his journal and cell phone– was also ruined (While they had been busy burying Julio, Robbins had carefully removed his revolver and stun gun from the decoy camera and hid them in his pockets). Only Alan's belongings, including his binoculars and camera, which had been safely tucked in the shockproof pockets of his marine vest, were undamaged. The contents of the plane's emergency kit were also intact.

Going through their pockets, they also included their watches, handkerchiefs, notebooks, pens, a couple of cigarette packs, Alan's knife, depression medication, his matches, hipflask and knife, to the salvage. Their wallets and cell phones were currently useless but they decided to hold on to them for the time being. A small brass compass on a chain taken off Julio's body before the burial, as well as the flight charts from the plane completed their take.

"All right. We have some useful odds and ends, and we are all in good health; now, all we have to do is wait for help to arrive for us. After what happened last night - whatever it was – the National Guard is probably on their toes by now; help should be here in a matter of hours. However, just to be on the safe side, we should make preparations for a lengthy wait. First, we need to find nourishment. Let's split up; look for any fruit, berries, nuts, or mushrooms you can find. However, don't eat anything before I can take a look at them; something may be poisonous."

"I will climb that hill, to take a navigational reading; perhaps if I can calculate our approximate longitude and latitude, we can figure out where we are." Derek said, pocketing the chart and compass, along with his notebook and Alan's binoculars. "All right Deke; Robbins and I can look for food in the meantime. We will rendezvous back here in an hour. But remember, don't venture too far and don't lose sight of the plane; we don't need anyone getting lost out here."

They split up in different directions, each attending to their assigned tasks. Alan soon found himself walking alone through the woods. As he studied the changed environment, he saw it was stunningly beautiful, almost paradise-like: a rich variety of plants, including flowers and fruit trees, all bearing the finest natural bounty he had ever seen before, even at Kew Gardens, could be seen everywhere. The flora was in peak condition with no signs of parasites, aside from a few fungi and club mosses growing on tree trunks, and absolutely no signs of pollution. The environment had been cleansed pure, almost as if it had never experienced human impact before, all the vegetation seemingly completely untouched by human hand. Although he was at a total loss to explain this impossible transformation, this new natural splendour still amazed him.

Something at the foot of the tree caught his eye; it was a bed of mushrooms, some the size of hats! Drawing his knife, he cut the stem of one and picked it up for a closer inspection. It looked like an ordinary field mushroom with all the characteristics that Alan knew from his knowledge of botany, except its inexplicably enlarged size. Identifying it as an edible species, he placed it in an empty waste bag he had taken from the plane, along with several others to share with his companions. In addition, he added a pile of blackberries to the food gathering, enough for a big meal. As he paused to take a sip of grog from his hip flask, he was suddenly startled by distant voices coming from close by.

_Rescue party do you suppose?_ he thought to himself, but then realised something was wrong, _Why aren't they using vehicles? Could it be enemy troopers closing in for a silent attack?_ Ducking under the thick foliage, he held his breath, trying to listen, but couldn't make out any recognisable words. Slowly and cautiously he crawled in the direction of the voices and soon found himself on the edge of a clearing. Crawling on his stomach, he slowly positioned himself behind some bushes to get a good look at the 'people' beyond. He had to restrain himself from yelling out loud in surprise, as the most incredible sight he had ever seen before, met his eyes.

"What the bloody hell…?"

In the clearing were not _people_, but a bunch of _rabbits_, grazing; only these rabbits were unlike any species of rabbit Alan had ever seen before. They were amazingly large, some almost three-quarters the size of a fully-grown man! To add to Alan's surprise, he realised these rabbits were _talking_ in some mysterious, yet vaguely familiar, language. Although they wore no clothing and didn't seem to have any tools or weapons of any kind, they seemed to have their own intelligent society, almost like a native tribe of this wilderness that had overcome the world last night. He glanced at a rather humorous-looking buck with dark brown bushy fur and a good built, chatting with a light grey doe with stunning blue eyes.

"…A laynt meth il Toadflax a veth hay nildel hrow me a e hray varu El-ahrairah!" The buck rolled over laughing at his own joke. The doe, apparently his mate, shook rolled her eyes at him, "Pathun, a bral thum neylfa-rah Hleengar tringil vao ven u Owsla," she muttered with faint amusement, nuzzling her mate.

"Thaf u thrang blel, ma varu nyt Violet, neylfa-rah Hleengar laynt tring ma ven u Owsla. E methil thum a lay u atha ol u Owsla. Asith u naylfa varu Thlayli, thli lay thaf fran. Hrairoo bralil…"

"Meth ol ma rusati roo?"

Alan watched as another rabbit walked up to the couple; this one was slender with all brown fur and with wise reddish brown eyes, which gave him an air of being very caring and loving. Although he didn't share the first rabbit's strong built, he obviously knew how to take care of himself, judging by his well-groomed fur and slender physique.

"Oh, vao ni-Frith, Kothen. Tring seth flayrah?"

"Nahl il ma, Pathun; A laynt dayn hli yayn seth flayrah il Hrairoo." The bushy-furred buck, apparently a rabbit of some authority, nodded in permission and passed a patch of clover - a rabbit's favourite delicacy - to the brown-furred rabbit. His friend nodded in gratitude and hurryingly turned to leave, carrying the clover in his mouth.

Alan, still hiding under the bushes, was completely dumbstruck by what he was seeing. All these strange names he had just heard; Kothen, Hrairoo, Pathon, Thlayli… Where had he heard them before…? Why, of course! He had _read_ these names in his favourite novel _Watership Down_! Translated into English, they were Hazel, Fiver, Bluebell and Bigwig, the key characters of the supposedly _fictional_ story!

_Is this a dream? Perhaps I overdid it with the alcohol again? Or is this concussion worse than I thought?_ Alan thought, rubbing his eyes as if he didn't trust his own senses and even felt the semi-healed bump on his head. Still, it all seemed very real. What was going on here?

Apparently, he and his companions had somehow been thrown into a world where the characters of the story were _real_. But how was that even possible? And what had happened to the world? Had it somehow…winked out of existence and replaced with _this_? Was this real? Or was he just experiencing a wild hallucination? However, real or not, he wasn't going to wait there to be found by those creatures, not while he was unarmed. Quiet as a mouse, he crawled backwards until he had put a safe distance between himself and these creatures. When he was certain he was out of earshot, he turned and run back towards the plane, as fast as his legs would carry him.

When he got back, he saw Derek and Robbins had returned and were busy painting large red SOSs on the plane's wings using the marker, for any passing rescue plane to see. Deciding to keep the details of what he had seen to himself for the moment, Alan showed them the giant mushrooms he had gathered. He noticed that Robbins too had found similar souvenirs while scouting for food. Derek also had news.

"I took the navigational reading; although I can't be 100% accurate, my calculations confirm we are still in England. I even managed to read the approximate time from the sun; 12:45pm local time, give or take five minutes or so…" But they were too hungry to bother with that now and they all turned to the fruit and mushrooms Robbins and Alan had gathered.

"Bloody hell, I swear this place is looking more and more mysterious by the minute. Just look at the size of these things! It really is supernatural, isn't?" Derek asked, "What do you think Al? Could it be some sort of mutation?"

"Maybe, but at least we have one advantage on our side: we are at no risk of starving out here. There's plenty to eat and we can pick it up with our bare hands. Now, as soon as I have sorted out the good stuff from the bad, lunch is in order." Despite their enlarged size, everything was easily recognisable and Alan soon had sorted out the good stuff and discarded the rest.

"I say, you are only selecting those that have been nibbled by insects. Why?" Robbins asked with a rather irritated tone, at seeing all those beautiful mushrooms he had carried back here being discarded.

"If insects can eat them, then it somewhat reduces the risk of them being poisonous. Besides, that pale yellow one you got there is a Death Cap; it may be enlarged but I can recognise those gills anywhere. Also, as a precaution, I suggest we roast everything before eating, to kill any parasites they may be carrying." Although, in the back of his mind, Alan didn't feel too keen at lighting a fire, which could attract unwanted attention, the prospect of food poisoning for, what had probably been, a hallucination caused by his excessive drinking, won out.

They build a small campfire and started cooking. Since they had no dishes, cutlery, or cooking utensils of any kind, they had no choice but to improvise, using Alan's knife as their only tool. First, they cut several straight sticks into spits, to grill the mushrooms on. Using a clean stone and a flattened piece of raw bark, Alan mashed the berries and nuts into jam. Using a bunch of olive leaves as a food brush, he applied the 'sauce' on the roasted mushrooms. Soon, a hot lunch of hot mushroom-and-blackberry-sauce nuggets was ready and served on makeshift dishes made of willow bark. Chopsticks, made of twigs, served as cutlery. Alan took the first bite from his portion.

"Hm, delicious. However, I still can't be certain if it is safe or not until at least 24 hours have passed. If no one feels sick by then, then they're as good as they taste. _Bon appetit_ chaps!"

"My compliments to the chef!" Derek said enthusiastically, raising Alan's burrowed hip flask and proposing a toast, as he passed it round. Only Robbins seemed uninterested in joining in the festivities as he took his own sip of grog from the flask, before greedily turning back to his food without a word.

Later that afternoon, the trio sat peacefully, waiting for rescue to arrive. Derek and Robbins sat playing poker on a rock; Alan on the other hand, was striding around, thinking about what he had seen that morning; half of him wanted to go back and get a closer look at those strange rabbits, while the other half kept telling him it wasn't such a good idea. Then again, what was he supposed to do about it? So far, there had been no sign of a rescue mission; what if there wasn't anyone out looking for them at all? Bt how exactly was he to explain to his companions?

"You know, I don't think anyone is coming for us. It's been nearly a day and no one has shown up so far. If there was anyone else close by, they would have at least seen our fire. Even the radio remains off the air. I am afraid we're completely on our own. Unless we do something, we will just be stuck here forever."

"But _what_ can we do professor?" Robbins asked incredulously, apparently not too keen on the idea of taking matters into their own hands, possibly to avoid trouble, "We have no idea what is happening out there. Our best chance is to sit tight and wait; they'll find us soon or later." Little did they realise that Robbins was indeed waiting for someone to arrive; but not for a rescue squadron, like his companions. Derek, on the other hand, had an idea.

"Maybe there _is_ something we can do. I have been inspecting the plane; aside from a few paint scratches and a mild buckling of the undercarriage, there doesn't seem to be any structural damage. We could clear a runway and then take off again. We would have more chances of locating any other groups of survivors from above…"

"Interesting plan Dr Shaw, but I am afraid there is a little flaw: I don't think we can get that plane out of that muck, at least not without a tow truck." Alan however, seemed to consider the idea, "Why not? It is worth a try. Derek is right; the plane is our best bet of reaching safety…if we can find it of course. Unless you'd rather we flipped a coin and start a long trek on foot, hoping to _stumble_ across safety, somewhere out there?" Derek and Robbins looked at each other; Alan had a point and there was no denying it any more.

"All right, let's do it."

Under Derek's direction, the men placed some flat bits of timber under the wheels to improvise a ramp for the plane to slide on; Alan climbed onboard and seated himself in Julio's seat; with the pilot dead, _he_ was the new pilot now, inexperienced or not, and this was his plane. Fastening his seatbelt and flipping the master switch, he called out to his companions, "Ready to start. Everybody clear! "

He hit the ignition switch and the prop begun to spin at high speed. Pushing the throttle to full power, he tried to manoeuvre. He could feel the undercarriage straining beneath him, struggling to loosen from the mud, yet it wouldn't slide up onto the ramp. Then he heard Derek's voice shouting at him over the roaring noise of the engine, "Alan, stop it! It's no good. You will tear the plane apart. Stop!"

Seeing the engine was close to seizing under the strain, Alan powered down; although it had budged forward a few inches, the plane remained firmly stuck in the mud. "Well, it was worth a try. It looks like we aren't going anywhere in this plane."

"Yes, we're stuck here for good…" Derek muttered, kicking the immobilised aircraft in frustration. Alan however, now knew he had no choice left but to try and make contact with those giant rabbits. They seemed to be the only intelligent inhabitants of this strange land and he was stranded in their world now. An encounter was simply inevitable.

**Author's note:** If you want to know the English translation of the Lapine talk, download the methrahessi translator online. However, bear in mind that this Lapine dialogue isn't written with the help of a professional linguist, so don't expect it to be anything professional. By the way, the skills displayed here, including the navigation without instruments and cooking without appliances, come from professional survival manuals. Enjoy and please review!


	5. Chapter 5 First Contact

It wasn't until early evening when Alan found himself nervously making his way back to where he had seen the strange rabbits. Had those talking rabbits actually been _real_ or had it all been just a hallucination? Maybe they were the key to finding the answers to all this mystery? But, on the other hand, even if they were real, how wouldthey react if they saw him?

From his experience as a zoologist, Alan knew rabbits to be skittish creatures that would instinctively run from danger, rather that stand their ground against a larger enemy; except these rabbits were almost the size of _humans_! To them, _he_ could hardly register as a stronger enemy! What if they attacked him in self-defence? They seemed pretty capable of murder, considering their large size, and the prospect of been viciously mauled by one of those creatures hardly appealed to him.

Finally, his curiosity overcame his fear and he decided to go back and get a closer look. His knife in one hand and his camera in the other - some pictures would be sufficient proof to convince his companions, as well as to _himself_, of what was lurking out there - he made his way through the woods, back to the clearing.

Most of the rabbits were gone, except for two, grazing alone at the far end. Alan immediately recognised the creamy-brown one he had observed that morning - Hazel. Beside him stood a smaller rabbit with similar mousy- brown fur and reddish eyes, which seemed to have a strange, haunted look in them. Remembering from the novel, Alan realised this had to be Hazel's younger brother Fiver, a runty rabbit with a sixth sense that gave him random premonitions of upcoming danger. The two rabbits were talking in that strange new language he had overheard earlier. Alan's jaw dropped in amazement as he listened in, vaguely recognising some of the words; it was Lapine, the language of the rabbits Mr Adams had invented and used in his book, somehow having been developed into the native language of this strange land.

_How I wish I had brought that book with me_, Alan thought in utter bewilderment, remembering his copy of _Watership Down_, which he had left on his daughter's bed back in London, a long way away and no use to him when he needed it the most. His curiosity overpowering his sense of caution, he silently crawled closer through the undergrowth. Taking cover behind some bushes, he slipped out his camera from his vest pocket and activated the silent flash, intent on not drawing attention to himself.

He was about to take a photograph of the two, when suddenly something else caught his attention; he was not the only one watching the two rabbits. Staring through the lens of his camera, he spotted a large fox, the size of a leopard, crouching in the tall grass at the far side of the clearing, about to spring at the unsuspecting rabbits. Without warning, the killer creature suddenly launched itself at the nearest rabbit, followed by a scream of pain and fear. Looking up, Alan saw it had snatched the smaller rabbit by the neck and was running off with the terrified creature clutched in its jaws.

Not pausing to think, he dropped his camera and gave chase, drawing his knife from his belt. Grasping it by the blade, he took aim and flung it in the direction of the escaping fox, as it run past him. The knife found its target, right in the back of the creature's neck, severing the spinal cord; with a groan of pain, the killer animal crumpled to the ground dead.

Alan rushed over and quickly managed to loosen the rabbit from the fox's jaws. For a moment he thought it had been strangled to death, but then it slowly begun to stir. At the sight of Alan, it gasped in fear and tried to run. But the bite on its neck was too painful and it fell, crying in pain. Alan gently grabbed hold of him, trying desperately to calm him down. It wasn't easy; the rabbit was the size of a ten-year old child and could struggle pretty hard, and Alan feared he would hurt him if he tried any harder to restrain him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! It's all right. I am not trying to hurt you! Calm down!" he called out, as the terrified creature screamed something indistinctive in Lapine. Hearing him speak, the rabbit suddenly stopped struggling and turned to stare at Alan in amazement, almost as if seeing a talking _human_ was something unheard of in this strange world.

As he felt the young rabbit start to relax, he slowly loosened his grip on him, just as he heard more rustling from the trees behind him. He spun round, just in time to see the other rabbit appear on the scene and spring at him, as if defending his brother. Its head impacted with his stomach with such force, he thought he was going to turn inside out. He was thrown violently backwards and his head impacted with a nearby tree. There was a sharp pain and then everything went black…

Hazel and Fiver were out on evening silflay. After finding a secluded spot, the two siblings sat enjoying their evening in peace and quiet. The two rabbits were natives of Sandleford, a warren located in the heart of the Great Meadows of Fenlo, their vast homeland. Like most of the youngest generation of Sandleford, the two siblings had been orphans since childhood, and forced to fend for themselves. Unlike his brothers, Hazel hadn't made any attempt to join the Owsla, instead dedicating himself to his neglected youngest brother. After the deaths of his parents and the rest of their siblings, the two brothers had become inseparable, living as outskirters on the edge of the warren.

Sandleford warren, ruled by an elderly short-tempered rabbit called Thearah, was divided into three social classes: the Chief, the Owsla and advisors, and the outskirters. The Owsla, which represented the Chief Rabbit and his advisors, were soldiers assigned on guard duty, patrols, or simply defending the warren from danger. In spite of the risks involved in their duties, being in the Owsla had many privileges, including good food and a choice of the finest burrows for them and their families. There were no does in the Owsla or as advisors to the Chief Rabbit; all the bucks had it as their ambition in life, to join the Owsla and rise to the highest rank possible, while the does focused on being good mothers and loyal mates. The only exception was the Thearah's niece Violet, who was the warren's healer rabbit.

Unfortunately, due to corruption and social discrimination, only the finest and most able-bodied bucks were admitted into the Owsla. As a result, more than half of Sandleford's population consisted of outskirters, the lowest, and most oppressed, social class.

The outskirters, in direct contrast to the Owsla, had very few privileges. Although not living under a tyranny, they suffered great resentment and sometimes abuse from bullying Owsla officers. Since the Threarah rarely took the outskirters seriously, many of the Owsla, particularly the younger recruits, made a bad habit of tormenting outskirters with their status, bullying them away from the finest flayrah and sometimes, even assaulting them. Although, fortunately, there were never any serious incidents, this caused great distrust and even animosity between the Owsla and outskirters.

Hazel and Fiver's lives were pretty dull; other than scavenging for flayrah that the Owsla offices hadn't taken for themselves, playing Bobstone competitions with their friends, or trading stories, their routine life was very monotonous. Neither of the bucks had ever mated, since most of the does chose Owsla bucks because of the privileges of their ranks. Although Hazel had considered leaving their home warren many times and seeking a new future elsewhere, there was nowhere to go, since Sandleford's only neighbourhood warren, Thinial had been abandoned long ago following a plague of White Blindness that had also killed many Sandlefordians, including Hazel and Fiver's family. Also, in light of the Thearah's warning that any immigrants or 'deserters' as he called them, would be exiled and never permitted to return, the thought was quickly discarded.

As Fiver walked away from his brother, looking for some coltsfoot that the Owsla may have overlooked, his sense of smell picked up a strange scent coming from the bushes; it was almost like _man_, yet it seemed to be combined with some other unfamiliar scents. As he curiously sniffed the air for the source, his instinct told him there was danger lurking nearby. Hazel, who was busy nibbling a cowslip nearby, hadn't noticed anything.

Suddenly, Fiver spun round and, with a twinge of fear, saw a homba charging at him full force. Before he could run or even scream, he felt the beast's jaws slam shut on his neck and lift him off the ground. The hungry eli quickly bolted from the boundaries of the warren and run into the woods, its sharp teeth keeping a firm grip on its soon-to-be victim. The pain and the predicament of about to be eaten alive overcame him and he blacked out.

After what seemed like an eternity, Fiver slowly opened his eyes. He was lying face down on the ground and his neck felt quite painful, _Where am I? Is this the Land Beyond Life?_ he thought in bewilderment. Was this what dying was all about? Suddenly he was startled by someone gently caressing him over the head and he picked up that strange new scent again, this time very close. He looked up and gasped in fear.

Crouching above him was an ithe, with the strangest appearance Fiver had ever seen. Yet, strange appearance or not, it was still a human, a well-known eli. Panicking, he stood and was about to bolt for his life, but his injured neck was too painful. As he tried to crawl away, he felt the man swiftly, yet gently, grab hold of him. Fiver felt his insides turn to ice; was this ithe about to kill him?

"_Hazel, help!"_ he cried out desperately, struggling to escape the man's tight grasp, expecting to die. But his captor didn't reach up to strangle him as he had expected; instead, to his amazement, the human spoke in Hedgerow Vernacular, an ancient dialect that most rabbits still spoke by tradition, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! It's all right. I am not trying to hurt you! Calm down!"

His astonishment having won over his fear, Fiver slowly turned to stare at this strange creature. The stranger looked nothing like an ordinary human; he was hardly big than the largest rabbit – too small for his usual counterpart - and seemed to possess intelligence, aside from the ability to speak. Before Fiver could build up the courage to try and talk back however, he heard a rustling in the bushes and in an instant, the man was sent flying off of him, slamming into a tree and falling unconscious. Hazel, determined on saving his brother from the homba, had caught up with them and attacked the human, thinking he was attacking Fiver.

"_Keep away from my brother, you embleer ithe! I'll give you something for your hunger,"_ Hazel snarled in an icy voice filled with hatred and rage, as he raised a paw to strike a fatal blow on the human's head. Fiver jumped, _"Hazel, no! Please, leave him alone. He didn't hurt me!"_ the young rabbit begged his brother, limping up to him. Hazel turned to his brother, looking concerned, as he started nuzzling him for injuries, _"Hrairoo ma rusati, are you alright?"_

"_Yes, I am fine. Don't hurt him, please. He just saved my life!"_ Hazel frowned suspiciously, "_What in Frith's name are you on about? He is an ithe, Fiver! Ithel kill and eat rabbits, yet you defend him?"_

"_Hazel, he…he spoke to me,"_ Fiver said, shaking his head slightly as he realised how foolish he must sound. Hazel looked more perplexed than ever, _"Humans can't talk Fiver! You must have imagined it. Come, let's get out of here, before he…"_ But Fiver shook his head.

_"No Hazel, I am sure he spoke; they were words of old Hedgerow, from before Frith's Blessing."_ They turned and spotted the dead homba lying close by, Alan's knife still jabbed into its neck. Hazel's deep hatred of humans instantly evaporated and curiosity replaced it, realising what had happened; it had indeed been that human that had saved his brother from been torn to shreds. He turned to get a better look at the stranger.

"_Where do you suppose he comes from?"_ he asked, sniffing at Alan's flannel shirt and pressed jeans, garments – or more accurately 'skin' texture - completely unfamiliar to Hazel, aside from the man's trimmed hair and clean appearance, as well as the curious ticking sound of the watch on his wrist and the gleaming of the horn-rimmed spectacles on his face, _"Whoever he is, he is definitely not local…"_ At that moment, another larger rabbit with silvery white fur emerged from the bushes.

_"What's all the commotion here? What in Frith's name…?!_" he gasped as he spotted the unconscious human. Silver was the Threarah's nephew, a warm-hearted young Owsla scout who was a good friend of Hazel and Fiver's. Although a strong and daring buck, he was constantly ridiculed and shunned by his fellow officers because of his overweight that usually got him into trouble during Owsla exercises. As a result, his only friends consisted of outskirters, rather than rabbits of his own high class, much to his stern uncle's disapproval.

Fiver, hardly registering Silver's arrival, turned to his brother, _"Hazel, he is badly hurt. We must help him or the elil will get him soon."_ The fat silvery rabbit looked horrified, _"Have you gone around the twist you two? Get away from that…that human!"_ But Fiver remained stubborn.

"_No, we must help him. I've got a strange feeling about him. Silver, please, you are the biggest, can you help us carry him back to our burrow?"_ Silver of course, wasn't the least keen to oblige.

"_There better be a good explanation for this madness, Fiver! My uncle will be furious if he finds out…"_ But Hazel interrupted him, _"Silver, please just do what Fiver says. This stranger just saved my brother from being eaten alive; and Fiver says he heard him speak…"_ Sighing in exasperation at their reckless foolishness, but intrigued nonetheless, Silver hoisted Alan onto his broad shoulders and with Hazel's help, they carried him to the safety of Hazel and Fiver's burrow. After reassuring the weary Silver that everything would be all right and making him promise not to breathe a word to anyone, the fat rabbit left to return to his own burrow, hoping to get some answers about this strange ithe in the morning.

"_Are you sure I didn't kill him?"_ asked Hazel hours later, as they stared at Alan's still unresponsive form. Night had fallen by now and the man still hadn't regained consciousness. Fiver placed his ear over the human's mouth and listened, _"No, I can definitely hear him breathing. By Frith Hazel, I never thought you could hit so hard! You should have been in the Owsla…"_

_"Tell that to Captain Holly. Fiver, are you sure we should be helping him?"_ Hazel asked with a frown, as Fiver tenderly licked at the cut on Alan's head Hazel had given him, _"Father and our brothers were killed by man. Remember what mother went through? Perhaps we should take him out and leave him before he awakes, just to be on the safe side? I really don't trust this…this creature…"_

"_Hazel, are you willing to turn away the 'creature' that saved your brother's life, only because he is different from us?"_ Fiver asked stiffly. Hazel relented, his sense of gratitude kicking in, as he reminded himself that it was only thanks to this stranger that his brother wasn't in the lair of the Black Rabbit of Inle now, while silently praying to Frith that his brother's kindness wouldn't bring trouble upon them. Their father and brothers' violent deaths at the hands of native humans had been a terrible tragedy for the whole family. The two siblings sat watching Alan, waiting for their guest to awake…

Back at the crash site, Derek and Robbins were still preoccupied with their card game, "Bet you ten and I'll raise you ten," Derek said, placing a £10 banknote in the pot. "So what have you got?"

"Three queens," replied Robbins with a smug smile, "I win again." Having lost all his money, save for his paycheck, and feeling irritated at having lost the third game in a row, Derek turned to look at the setting sun, while Robbins triumphantly pocketed his winnings.

"It's getting dark. I wonder what's keeping Alan so long. Perhaps we should go and look for him?"

"Oh, don't bother. A former marine can look after himself. We should stay put, to light the signal fire should help arrive," Robbins replied, resetting the cards for another round. "Care for another round?" But Derek didn't fail to notice a hopeful expression in Robbins's eyes, which, to his utmost outrage, seemed to actually hope for the _worst_…

Alan slowly opened his eyes and found it was completely dark around him. Soon he realised he was no longer in the open air; he was _underground_, judging by the strong smell of damp earth that filled the air. Fear instantly kicked in; hurriedly, feeling in his belt, he also realised his knife was missing along with his camera, which had been lost in the confusion with the fox. Reaching into his vest pocket, he found his box of matches. Striking a match, he found himself in a gigantic rabbit's burrow, big enough for him to crouch in. The floor was covered in rough, dry straw, like a crude carpet.

His head felt like a beehive, and his stomach as if he had been hit with a cannonball. Putting his hand up to his head, he traced a new bump growing from just above his left eyebrow, from when he had hit the tree. Fortunately, the impact hadn't shattered his spectacles, which were still on his face. Shakily and weakly he got on his knees and was about to crawl towards the end of the tunnel, looking for a way out, when a firm, yet non-threatening voice spoke from behind him, catching him by surprise.

"Hli, ithe."

Turning, he found himself face to face the creamy brown buck, which was staring back at Alan with a cautious expression. The smaller rabbit was standing right beside his brother, staring at Alan with a look of concern, unlike the fear he had shown when he had first seen him after the fox attack. Alan noticed the bite wound on buck's neck still looked sore and raw from where the fox had held him, yet he didn't seem to be seriously injured. Both rabbits seemed a bit startled, probably by the striking and hissing of the match; a natural fear of fire. Alan carefully tried to remain calm, to face his situation.

"Look here guys, I wasn't trying to cause trouble or anything. I only wanted to…" He was worried that probably the two rabbits didn't understand English, something that could prove potentially problematic. As he thought of trying what few Lapine words he knew, Hazel, finally convinced of his guest's speaking abilities, cut him off.

"There is no need for explanations stranger," he said, in almost perfect English, with a hint of a foreign accent (Lapine) that Alan couldn't quite place, his face now forming into a thin smile, "Fiver told me how you risked yourself to save his life. I wanted to thank you for your bravery and also to apologize for attacking and hurting you earlier. I had no idea your intentions were innocent." His voice was friendly and caring, yet he still seemed rather cautious of Alan, not unlike a human being finding himself in the presence of a _talking, intelligent_ animal.

"No harm done pal, no harm at all," Alan said, nursing the bruise on his head, realising he wasn't in any trouble…for now. He could tell the two rabbits were very friendly but their enormous size, not to mention their talking abilities, still overwhelmed him. Hazel went on speaking, while maintaining a good three-foot distance between them, almost as if still unsure if the talking human before them was safe or not, "We brought you down here, to keep you out of elil's way until you are better. Fiver didn't want to leave you out there unconscious."

"That's right. I could sense your feelings when you pulled that homba off of me," the runt rabbit said excitedly, speaking for the first time, "You are lost and confused. I want to help you, just like you helped me." Alan raised his eyebrows; was this rabbit indeed a seer, who could read minds?

"Sorry, where are my manners?" Hazel said, looking slightly taken aback as he stared back at his brother, whom he had completely forgotten in the midst of his amazement of conversing with a _talking_ human, "My name is Hazel and this is my brother, Fiver."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Hazel, Fiver. My name is Alan." Normally, he would have offered his hand to shake, but decided against it, thinking these rabbits weren't familiar with that gesture. Careful not to startle them, seeing how they were already on edge, he lit the flashlight he had taken from the plane, to conserve his matches and placed it on a ledge on the burrow wall, so he could see his surroundings better. The two rabbits kept their eyes fixed on him, watching his every move.

"We are pleased to meet you too – _Alan_, did you say your name was? - not to mention eternally grateful for your help, but we both have to know something. I can tell from your scent that you are not one of the native humans that inhabit our land. Not to mention that you can speak our tongue – something impossible. _Where_ in Frith's name do you come from and what are you doing here?"

Meanwhile, Alan's mind was also filled to bursting with his own questions. So, in this alien land, the _characters_ of a fictional story were real; could the _plot_ be real as well? Should he tell them? Trying to be as understandable as possible, he explained.

"I come from…another world, very different from yours. My companions and I were…on a flight and encountered some…strange force that brought us here. I was trying to approach you, hoping you could tell me where I am…" Hazel answered him immediately, "You're at Sandleford warren, in the Meadows of Fenlo. What's your warren called?"

"Well, I guess you can call it London," Alan replied, his fear of his hosts now entirely diminished, yet feeling a slight twinge of disappointment, realising that his new friends wouldn't be of any help in helping finding his way home. The fact that Sandleford Park in this world was now 'Sandleford Warren' and the county of Hampshire was the 'Meadows of Fenlo' didn't sound too promising, being the names of supposedly fictional locations in a storybook! Hazel and Fiver listened intently as Alan continued his story.

"When we landed – leaving one of us dead - we discovered the world we knew had simply vanished without a trace and replaced with yours, with the time zones and seasons all altered. Don't ask me _how_ it happened, because I have no idea. All I know is that we are stranded here with no idea of how to get back."

"Time zones?" asked Hazel confused, completely unfamiliar with the alien terms. To explain better, Alan showed them his watch. Hazel and Fiver stared at it curiously, weary of the ticking noise, which sounded much like a heartbeat to them. Fiver sniffed it and gently nudged it with his paw probably thinking it was alive, "What in Frith's name is that?"

"It's called a watch; a gadget we use to tell time. Twelve hours of day and twelve hours of night form a 24-hour cycle that mark off each of the 365 days of the year," Alan explained, pointing at the moving hands, "Don't you guys have a way to tell time round here? With the movement of the sun and the moon perhaps?" Eventually making sense of what Alan was talking about, Hazel explained.

"Well, not the way you tell it. We know about uth-frith and ni-frith that mark off a day, uth-Inle and ni-Inle that mark off a night, hrair days mark off a season, and finally the kes seasons that form a full cycle of seasons," he said, explaining their crude calendar system. Although fairly straightforward, Alan realised he couldn't expect much from them, since these rabbits didn't seem to keep any accurate track of the date, without the use of numbers, thus it would be pointless to enquire any further.

"Does your kind make other gadgets like this…watch? Or that other strange contraption of your that glows like Frith?" Fiver said, gesturing at the illuminated flashlight lying on the floor, "Over here, we praise someone for building a strong burrow or telling a good story, but all this craftsmanship is just…incredible…" Alan chuckled in amusement at their amazement, as he showed them the flashlight he had taken from the plane's emergency kit.

"This is called a flashlight; we use it to light our way in dark places. And these are just minor samples of what we have in the human world. What if I were to tell you that we have contraptions - or _planes_ as we call them - which allow us to _fly_?" As he had expected, both rabbits' eyes went wide in amazement.

"You say you _flew_ here?" asked Fiver in confusion. Then his eyes suddenly went wide with understanding, "That mysterious bird the night patrol saw two nights ago, that was _you_?" Alan nodded, starting to feel uneasy at the mention of others also knowing of his presence here. Although he seemed to have gained the trust of these two rabbits, there was no telling how the rest of the warren - particularly the Chief Rabbit - would react to his presence; he had already seen enough to convince him that humans didn't seem to be very popular around here, "So someone else know about me?"

"Yes, a friend of ours who helped us carry you down here. But don't worry; he can be trusted to keep his silence." Alan breathed a sigh of relief; for the moment, his presence was safe. Then, he realised that Fiver was staring directly at him, the runt rabbit's large eyes locked with his; Alan realised that the seer was sensing his emotions using his sixth sense and had apparently found something very interesting.

"This is strange. It feels almost as if you are an old acquaintance, although I swear to Frith, we have never met before. But how is this done? My far sight never lies… I don't understand it…"

"I see you have discovered my most astonishing secret of all, Hrair-roo." Alan said, smiling at the surprised looks on the rabbits' faces, as he used Fiver's Lapine birth name, "I suppose there is no point in avoiding it any longer. There is something more I think you should know; something that may sound crazy, but true nonetheless." The rabbits looked at each other in suspicion, as Alan explained, "We may have never met before, but I have actually known you guys most of my life. Back in my world, you are both characters of a grand tale…"

For the next hour, Alan told his two new friends the story of _Watership Down_. He told them about Fiver's vision of Sandleford's destruction, the perilous journey to Watership Down, their problems in establishing a new warren without does, their infiltration of Efrafa, and the final battle to defend their home. When he had finished, what he saw shocked him. He had expected the rabbits to at least express disbelief, if not mock him or accuse him of trying to bluff them; instead, Hazel was staring at him with a serious expression and Fiver stood petrified with surprise beside his brother.

"Are you saying you know our _destinies_? Like a prophet?" Alan nodded and the buck's expression turned stony, "When does it all start?" Alan felt at a loss, realising he was probably playing a cat-and-mouse game with fate.

"I don't know. Judging by your age, I'd say in the non-so distant future. However, I still haven't seen any familiar events occurring, so I can't be certain…"

"Could you…guide us through it if you know so much?" Since Alan preferred to deal with facts, rather than theories, he decided to speak plain.

"But I don't know if anything _will_ happen at all. Besides, what exactly am I supposed to do? Go up to your Chief Rabbit and tell him that your warren is about to be destroyed? In the story, he didn't take yours or Fiver's word for it and I doubt mine will make much of a difference. And it could turn out to be a false alarm anyway. Unless…"Alan suddenly came up with an idea to test his theory regarding the reality of the book's plot in this world. He turned to Fiver.

"I think there _is_ a way to find out for certain if any of the said events are actually foretold; shortly before Sandleford's destruction, you had a vision of the upcoming catastrophe. Now, if you actually have that vision soon, then we know that your future has been written, and we can plan ahead. I say we wait and see...for the time being anyway."

"And if it does happen as you say it might?"

"One thing at a time pal," Alan said, feeling rather stupid at the prospect of changing the history of a supposedly _fictional_ story, come-alive. Hazel however still looked sceptic and troubled, "What about our friends? Shouldn't we tell them anything?"

"No, not yet. Since some of them have seen me already, there is no point in trying to hide me from them. You should tell them who I am and that I mean no harm, before someone gets cold feet and decides to blab to the Owsla. However, don't tell _anyone_ what I told you about your foretold future just yet. We will warn them when the time is right." As they continued chatting, Alan saw light appear from the burrow entrance.

"Morning," he said, "I better return to my camp, before my companions start scouting the area for me." He crawled towards the exit run, Hazel and Fiver behind him. He stepped out into the early morning sunlight, feeling almost blinded by the light, after having spent an entire night in a pitch-black burrow. As he walked away towards the woods, he turned to look at his two new friends who were still staring at him.

"Will we meet again?" Fiver asked, looking rather sad at watching Alan leave. The professor smiled warmly at the runt rabbit's warm-hearted nature. Then he realised it would be unwise to try sneaking back here again or he would attract the Owsla's attention. They would have to set up a secret meeting place, where there was no risk of being interrupted.

"This evening, just before sundown, meet me at my camp, on the edge of the marshes. That should be safe from any prying eyes or ears. Also, bring anyone else who saw me with you. Vao frithaes ma vahril!" he said, trying his best with Lapine.

"Wait, please…" Fiver said and Alan turned to look at him, "Thank you." The man nodded curtly, "My pleasure lad." Even Hazel couldn't help but smile in gratitude, as they watched their new friend disappear through the trees. Perhaps there was indeed more to humans than what met the eye?

Meanwhile, back at the plane, Derek and Robbins had just returned from a sleepless nightlong search of the surrounding woodland for their missing companion. Derek sat clutching his hair in desperation, while an irritated Robbins strode about, muttering possible scenarios explaining Alan's disappearance.

"But how else could he just disappear like the wind? Where did he go? Do open your eyes already! Can't you see? He's lost! Another of those giant foxes from the forest must have got him and carried him off…"

"Another word from you, so help me I'll wring your neck!" Derek snapped, horrified of Robbins' suggestion of what could have happened to Alan, "If something's happened to him because I let him go out there alone, I'll never forgive myself…" At that moment, Alan appeared out of the foliage.

"No need for that, Deke. I am alive and kicking, if not a little shell-shocked from my little adventure last night," The two men instantly jumped at his voice, "Alan! You son of a bitch, don't scare me like that again! Not that this foul git gives a iota about your well-being, mind you…" He turned to look at Robbins with distaste.

"Where the hell have you been? And what happened to your face?" the journalist snapped, tossing Alan his knife and camera, which they had found while out searching for him, "Back from your holiday?"

"Shut up you two and listen. I have something to tell you that will probably drive you bonkers: This place is inhabited by gigantic rabbits that can speak fluent English, and seem to be the characters from _Watership Down_ come alive! How about that to make your day, huh?" Derek and Robbins were struck dumb with confusion.

"What the hell are you on about, doc?" Robbins said, breaking the silence, "Have you taken one too many blows to the head, or have you been drinking again?" But Alan only roared with laughter at the insult.

"Drinking, huh? Well, what if I told you that I have invited them over to meet you? They will be coming _here_, tonight."

"Wow, Alan, settle down man!" Derek said, "Now, tell us what happened. After seeing those giant mushrooms and now that gigantic fox, I believe I have seen enough to convince me that you may be onto something." He cast a look of disgust at Robbins, having had enough of that man's rudeness and snobbishness.

Alan told his two companions everything; how he had spotted these strange giant rabbits yesterday but had decided to keep quiet until he could find out more, returning to get a closer look at the warren, the fox attack, being accidentally attacked, and waking up in the burrow with the two talking rabbits who had befriended him. He even told them his absurd deduction that they were apparently in a world out of a _story_.

"So we can add the mystery of the replacement of the _human world_ with a _rabbit world_, to those of shifted time zones, reversed seasons, and our vanished civilisation. Instead of finding help, we find…_rabbits_! The world has been transformed to a domain of giant, talking rabbits," Alan said, rolling his eyes. Derek, although still unsure about his best mate's story, seemed to be thinking hard.

"Then perhaps these 'giant rabbits' of yours could tell us where we are? Maybe they saw that mysterious shock that changed everything and know what it is?" Alan shook his head in denial, "No, I have already asked them; they said they saw our plane, but nothing of what we saw up there. What's more, it seems they don't even know about _our_ world, anymore than we know about this place. It's maddening all right, I'll tell you that much…"

"Damn right its madness Professor," sneered Robbins incredulously, "Giant talking rabbits indeed! If someone doesn't have a more urgent need of a psychiatrist's prescription for a good hallucination-relief medication..." Derek held a menacing finger up to Robbins's face, "I've had just about enough out of you. Shut up or you'll find my fist slammed down your gob!" He turned back to his friend, "So what's your conclusion Al?"

"Well…" Alan muttered, pacing around, at a loss with the absurdity of his thoughts, "My deduction is that we have somehow slipped into another dimension, one _parallel_ to our world. Just like in a sci-fi film, only very real. That is the only reasonable explanation why everything has turned topsy-turvy. Either that, or we are all somehow hallucinating…"

"No, you and lard-belly here are hallucinating!" Robbins said, unable to withhold his sarcasm. Derek's eyes flashed dangerously at the insult, looking as if he was about to come to blows with the journalist. But Alan raised a hand to calm his short-tempered friend before turning to the journalist, "We shall see soon enough Mr Robbins."

Meanwhile, Hazel and Fiver were also being bombarded with questions from their friends that had arrived to see them, shortly after Alan had left. Although Silver had kept quiet, several neighbours had somehow gotten wind of what had happened last night and had come to check on Fiver and also to find out more about this 'strange talking human' they had been hearing all about.

"_You had an ithe holed up in here last night? Have you gone mad?"_ gasped a dark grey rabbit, as Hazel told them what had happened last night, however carefully excluding what Alan had told them about their apparent future, intent on not pushing the story too far.

"_That ithe could actually speak our tongue?"_ said Silver, who had arrived first of all, expecting to find trouble; instead, he had found his friends completely unharmed, if not a bit overwhelmed by their visitor.

"_You said he saved your life from a homba, Fiver? It sounds so very exciting…!"_ squealed a young, chubby dwarf rabbit – a family friend and fellow burrow-mate of Hazel and Fiver's who had been away last night, visiting a friend – with awe. But Fiver's serious stare made the youngster droop his ears as if being reprimanded, _"I am sorry Fiver, have I done something wrong?"_

"_No Pipkin, you have said nothing wrong; it is just that this is not a matter to be taken so lightly I am afraid…"_ The others however, not hearing Fiver's remark, continued to treat this like some wild joke.

"_By Frith, Hazel! You could give me a run for my silflay with this story,"_ said a giddy golden-brown-furred rabbit and a dreamy expression excitedly, thinking his friends had come up a story good enough to challenge his supposedly unbeatable reputation of storytelling, _"Ithel become the protectors of rabbits…"_ Some of the others chuckled but Hazel remained serious, causing everyone to fall silent.

"_This is no story, Dandelion. We actually met a human who possesses abilities, unlike any other human anyone has ever seen before. This human is not from our world. He and his two companions have stumbled into our world by accident and are now stranded here. My brother and I promised to help him in any way we can. Tonight, we are going to find him and talk to him again. I suggest you come and see for yourselves, to dispel any doubts."_ At this, the expressions of everyone present also turned serious, finally realising Hazel wasn't pulling their legs.

"_Hold on a shake, Hazel. Surely, you can't be serious about this are you? Go and visit a human? How do we know that this…human of yours isn't dangerous like others of his kind? You said he killed a homba with one blow. What if he decides to do the same to us? What if he is a spy, sent from an unknown tribe to infiltrate the warren?"_

"_We didn't fear of such a thing, Hawkbit,"_ said Fiver reassuringly, _"I could feel his emotions down to my bones all the time he was here; he is haunted by some dark past and seeks happiness again. There are no evil intentions in his heart ("How reassuring", muttered Hawkbit). After he saved me yesterday, I am willing to trust him."_

"_What about the Owsla and the Chief Rabbit?"_ asked Silver, _"I don't think my uncle would be very happy if he found out we have secret contacts with a human, unusual or not. You know how much he distrusts strangers – a human nonetheless - and as for him having saved your life Fiver, well, that would be of little impression to him…"_

"_That is why I want your word – everybody - that you won't speak of this to anyone, least of all the Threarah and the Owsla,"_ Hazel said sternly, looking at the crowd with a slightly worried expression. _"Can I count on you?" _His friends started muttering to each other; although Hazel and Fiver's actions of trusting a supposedly talking human were questionable, the thought of doing something exciting 'against the rules', right under the bullying Owsla's noses nonetheless, greatly appealed to the outskirters. And the idea of actually meeting a talking human was a temptation too great to resist.

"_All right, you have it. I just hope you know what you are doing Hazel,"_ Silver replied and the others slowly nodded in agreement. Unbeknownst to any of them however, two other unwelcome rabbits were listening just outside the burrow entrance. These rabbits were rather thickset and had mean, bullying expressions on the faces; they were Owsla officers, who had come to visit the outskirters' neighbourhood, hoping to find some victims to bully or report to their captain on some hearsay accusation. Attracted by the sight of so many outskirters meeting together for no apparent reason, the duo was eavesdropping with interest.

_"What is all this about Toadflax? Why could they possibly want to meet down there in secret? That oaf Silver was making sure that those who came were not being followed. Could it be some conspiracy?"_

"_I don't know Scabious. They are saying something about a friendly human whom they have met and talked to,"_ muttered Toadflax, an officer in the Sandleford Owsla. He was a young recruit, born to a respected Owsla father who had recently passed away, letting his son take up his position in the Owsla. Although he was a superb runner and tracker, his aristocratic background made him feel superior to others beneath him, particularly the outskirters, who were frequent victims of his bullying behaviour.

His friend and fellow Owsla comrade, Scabious was of a similar background; arrogant and selfish, he too had no qualms of abusing his position to suit his own interests. Highly disliked among the outskirters, the pair wouldn't miss a chance to torment someone and then attempt to frame him for a supposed charge, should he complain or strike back. Although they were both always careful never to push it too far enough to land themselves in trouble, their behaviour was a major concern for all outskirters.

"_A talking human? Preposterous! Must be that cretin storyteller Dandelion and his fantasies again…"_ sneered Scabious, shaking his head in disbelief. Toadflax, however, ignored him and kept listening intently. Being a highly ambitious soldier with the dream of rising to the rank of captain someday, he had made a habit of spying on the outskirters, hoping to find someone to turn in for a supposed crime and earn a reward promotion in return, but without success. But this time, luck was finally in his favour.

"_I think the Threarah would be most interested in hearing about all this. If Frith is smiling on us today, maybe we have discovered something that would earn us a generous promotion. I am personally dying to becoming Owsla captain and have that old hypocrite Holly bumped down a few steps."_ Captain Holly, the Owsla captain of Sandleford and Toadflax and Scabious' commanding officer, was a brave, yet stern rabbit who valued order and obedience; unfortunately, their attempts to impress him enough to promote them to high-ranking officers had been futile, earning their jealousy and spite in return.

"_I think you are right, Toadflax. Come on, let's go before we are discovered."_ And they left, thinking of how they could best use this opportunity to their advantage…

**Author's note:** Chapter 5 is up! Although the story has many similarities to the book, the plot will differ greatly from the original, due to the circumstances of the time travel, among other factors. By the way, the text in italics is Lapine talk; whenever a human isn't present, the rabbits speak Lapine but I dubbed it into English to make life easier for the readers. Enjoy and please review!


	6. Chapter 6 It's Beginning

**December 28****th**** 2012, 10:30am**

A Westland Sea King rescue helicopter of the Royal Air Forces had taken off from Greenham Air Force Base outside Newbury, and was making its way west towards New Forest, following the missing Cessna's flight path. It's crew, led by squadron leader Major McEwen, an Air Force pilot, were on a search and rescue mission, out searching from the four missing.

Major James Quinton McEwen was a strong, raven-haired man of about forty. A retired war veteran, he now commanded the local Search and Rescue squadron stationed at Greenham. He and his crew were responsible for locating and transporting casualties, whether civilian or military, from all sorts of accidents in their area, at any given time. That morning, his peaceful Christmas leave with his family had been interrupted by a call from his Wing Commander, requesting that he prepare his chopper and crew for a search and rescue. Although upset at been called off his leave so soon, he was a man with a strong sense of duty.

As they made their way into the restricted zone, the men – friends and neighbours from the local village – were discussing the mystery surrounding the mystery surrounding Tom Shelton's story, who had reported the disappearance of the Cessna yesterday.

"So Major, our missing plane just vanished from the radar screens and was gone?" asked co-pilot Richard Smith his commanding officer, who was manning the controls on the seat next to his, "No SOS or anything else indicating there was trouble up there before they disappeared?"

"Most peculiar story old Tom told us back there," added air-medic John Harrison, "Sheriff Fowler also said they combed the grid for a possible crash site but found nothing; even the locals that were questioned said they didn't see anything. Even if it had exploded in mid-flight at 12,000ft, then the whole area should be have been littered with debris; instead, there isn't a single piece of wreckage, not even a signal from the aircraft's emergency beacon. Unless, they somehow made it to the coast and went down far out at sea…"

"Circumstances don't concern us, Mr Harrison," Major McEwen firmly, as his turned to his blabbering crew, "What concerns us, gentlemen, is the _situation_: we have a Cessna with three civilian passengers, gone missing. Although it is highly unlikely that anyone is still alive by now, there is a possibility that they have crash-landed somewhere remote and awaiting rescue. Our duty is to find them and bring them back safely – or retrieve their bodies otherwise. Mr Smith, how does it look?"

"A bit of a crosswind sir, but otherwise we're green across the board. I think…" the co-pilot said with a frown, suddenly noticing his magnetic compass on the control panel was starting to spin like a top. But Major McEwen who was too busy scanning the horizon for any signs of a crash site, didn't notice it.

"Very well," the squadron leader said, consulting a note with the approximate coordinates where the Cessna had disappeared. Little did he realise that he and his men were heading straight into the invisible warp, which the Cessna had vanished into the other day, and for which the chopper was not structurally designed to withstand.

If anyone had been picnicking in the heart of the desolate New Forest, they would have witnessed the most peculiar phenomenon of a chopper flying 12,000ft above them, suddenly disappear into thin air, leaving no traces that it had even been there at all…

Meanwhile, back at the flight club, Tom Shelton sat alone at his desk in the radio shack, the radios tuned to the chopper's frequency, as he monitored the squadron's search progress. In the room next door, his staff, radioman Stan Hallows and flight mechanic Toot-Toot, called off the Christmas leave, were busy going over the Cessna's servicing reports and listening to the radio tapes, trying to determine the cause of the 'crash', pending the authorities' inquiry into the accident. Picking up the phone on his desk, he dialled a number, all the while glancing out of the window, making sure he wasn't being watched.

"This is Tom boss," he said in a hushed voice, "I think we may have a problem," he said. The Russian accented voice answered him again, _"Keep talking. The line is secure."_ Tom took a second to ensure he was completely alone before answering, "The local RAF squadron is conducting another aerial search. Has your man made contact yet?"

"_No, but he was supposed too. Sven and Samir came back yesterday and informed us that they never arrived at the rendezvous place. What is the situation there?"_

"Well, my staff is grilling the flight data for an answer. But don't worry; I've already doctored the flight tapes, to keep your man's presence on board under wraps. I'm also monitoring the chopper frequency; so far, nothing has turned up and apparently, nobody has a clue as to what could have happened out there. You don't suppose your man was discovered, do you? Perhaps Johnson was tipped off by some traitor and took matters into his own hands?"

"_I doubt it. If he knew, then he and Shaw wouldn't have boarded the flight at all. Once airborne, there would be no turning back for any of them; our man would have forcibly taken control and redirected the aircraft to the designated landing sight for the interception. No, this seems to be an unforeseen development. I only I knew who was behind it…"_

"What do you want me to do?"

"_Keep monitoring the radio and radar; if the rescue squadron reports having found something, alert me, and me alone, immediately. We will take it from there. In the meantime, I will investigate your suspicions that we may have a traitor among us. Actually, I think I know who it might be…"_

"All right, you just make sure all this remains under wraps; the sum you're paying me isn't worth an arrest warrant with my name on it," said Shelton sharply, "Speaking of which, what about the money I am supposed to get for my trouble?"

"_After the job is done Mr Shelton. Right now, finding that plane before someone else does is our top priority. And you make sure you don't leave any traces that might give us away or you're a dead man. Understood?"_ said the voice in a menacing manner, causing a trickle of sweat to appear on Shelton's forehead. "Y…yes boss."

"_Good. Get to it then."_ Without another word, he hung up. Shelton seated himself at his desk, feeling uneasy at his boss' threat. Tom Shelton had spent most of his career in aviation as a private flight controller. Although his job was supposed to keep him financially secure, Shelton was completely broke from gambling, and so deep in his debt, he had been on the verge of bankruptcy. Then he had met his secret boss who had offered him a preposition that would rid him of all his debts.

Although initially uneasy at the idea of doing a dirty job and risking certain prosecution if he were caught, his desperation to rid himself of his debts - possibly even making a hearty profit in the process - was a temptation too great to resist.

Making sure no one was around to disturb him, he took out the forms Alan, Derek, Robbins, and Julio had filled in before take-off from his file cabinet and swapped them with edited duplicates his connections had supplied him with; in Robbins' case, he removed the form entirely. The originals were placed in a shredder and destroyed, along with the tapes. The cover-up complete, Shelton turned back to the radio; but there was only silence now…

Later that evening, back in London, in a gloomy-looking pub in the East End, a tall man with Slavic features sat at a table, opposite a fat, fierce-looking elderly man with a bushy beard and moustache. Dr Cole Drake, Alan's colleague, whose family had been reported missing a few days ago, sat facing his estranged father Sergey Petrograd – Tom Shelton's secret contact -, publicly known by his alias, as industrialist Joseph Buxton.

Sergey was a fanatical former Soviet communist who had supported his homeland during the Cold War. After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1989, he had used his wealth to found a secret terrorist faction called the Red Hand Brotherhood, hoping to forcibly abolish capitalism in the European Union – which he blamed for his homeland's fall from glory - and form a new Soviet Empire along with China and other Communist-friendly countries.

His son Cole however, shared none of his father's conservative - and often paranoid - beliefs and as such, had been disowned along with mother Pricilla Drake, who had passed away from cancer some time ago. Cole Drake, who used his mother's surname to conceal his shameful heritage, had managed to study, marry, and build a life for himself. However, his father's shadow had not lifted from over him. They both stared at each other with grim expressions before Drake broke the silence, "You promised my family would not be harmed…"

"I was wondering if perhaps you decided to withdraw your little end of the bargain? If that's the case, I will be most disappointed in you my son," said the Russian, emphasising the word 'son' as if it were something unpleasant on the bottom of his shoe. Drake shifted uncomfortably in his chair, turning pale with anxiety; his father had always been his greatest fear, "I…I don't know what you mean father…"

"You know perfectly well what I mean Cole. _Where are Johnson and Shaw_? How could they just disappear at such a convenient moment, when we had them within our grasp?" asked Sergey coldly, staring intently back at his son, as if attempting to read his mind, "The only reasonable explanation to this…complication is that a certain mole tipped him off at the right moment. _You_!" Drake, however, found the courage to retort straight into the eyes of Death himself.

"You have been my fear and embarrassment from the moment I came into this world. My own father, the leader of a terrorist faction! I have lied on your behalf, put other people's necks on the line for you, and even allowed you to enrol me into your murderous scheme against my own colleague. Well, I have been your mindless pawn long enough. If you don't release my family unharmed, I swear I will confess everything to the police!" Sergey only laughed cruelly.

"Cowardly, foolish little man. You know that will instantly reveal the fact that _you_ were the one who led Johnson's family to their graves in the first place; you will be sitting behind bars before you know it. And I daresay, I who would love to keep you precious little family company in your absence," sneered the older man maliciously. Drake paled, but his anger didn't recede, "I don't give a damn anymore. I want out! And you better let my family go if you know what's good for you…" The large man's eyes flashed dangerously at this; Sergey was not a man to be threatened, especially by his own son, whom he despised so much.

"Fine, I see your mind is made up. Such a pity, I had hoped you would someday see the error of your ways. Such a pity; you could have been the son of an important man someday. Instead, you choose to be my enemy. I believe you know what the word 'enemy' means in my vocabulary…" He made a ghastly imitation of a throat being slit. Drake paled as his father sneered maliciously, "Farewell, my pathetic little creature of a son. I'll make sure I give your best to my charming daughter-in-law and my grandson, before they are on their deathbeds." Without another word, he stood up and left.

Drake sat as if nailed to his chair. His father's threat hadn't gone amiss; Sergey Petrograd was always a man of his word and worse. Every word he had just said was a nail in his coffin and those of his family, unless he acted fast… After doing some quick thinking, he took a cab to the factory of _Maw Pharmaceuticals Ltd_, the pharmacy where his father purchased his medication for his heart condition.

Even before his father had taken his family hostage, Cole had been working on a plan to strike his father in his most vulnerable spot: his defective heart. After resigning from the university where he and Alan once worked, he had secured a job at Maw, intent on gaining access to his father's medication. Now working as the manager of _Maw's_ laboratories, he had full access to the premises.

Using his clearance, Drake entered the warehouse where expired, worthless goods were stored, awaiting disposal. Searching about, he soon found what he needed; a package containing several plastic cups of nitroglycerine tablets for heart condition, which were way past expiry date and worthless. Hastily wrapping it up in a _Maw_ delivery parcel, he hid it under his coat and descended to the loading dock, where customer's orders were kept, awaiting delivery.

Carefully scanning the manifest, he located the purchase under the name 'Buxton'. After a hasty search amidst all the packages, he found one containing a quantity of the same medication, with his father's address printed on it. Carefully, he peeled off the address label and swapped the packages around, replacing his father's purchase with the identical, but useless, quantity, which could lead a man with a heart condition to his grave.

His job done, Drake disposed of the original outgoing package, disposed of all traces of his work and left the city, silently praying that his scheme would work. It was the only way to save himself and his family now - if it wasn't already too late already - and expiate for his crime in betraying his vanished colleague. He knew full well, if this little scheme didn't work, he'd be digging his own grave next…

**March 11th 2791, Sandleford**

After Alan had finished telling his two companions about his adventure last night, the three men sat discussing their next step; what should they do now? Should they remain here and wait for rescue, or start making preparations for a potentially long journey through this strange new world?

"It appears we have no choice guys," Alan said, "We have to join up with these rabbits and follow them through their destined adventures and maybe, in the process, fate will present some way for us to get home. I can't think of any other solution. Unless someone has any better suggestions?" His two companions, although still sceptical of his story, finally nodded in agreement.

They spent the rest of the morning packing everything useful they could find from the plane, in preparation for their journey. It didn't take them long to realise how badly unprepared they were for such an endeavour; they lacked all the appropriate equipment and supplies needed for such a wild environment, forcing them to improvise best they could. Using his vast knowledge of survival skills he had learned in the Royal Marines, Alan was able to improvise some useful gadgets with what few odds and ends they had available.

Derek's empty laptop bag was converted into a traveller's bag containing the first aid kit and the thermos, which had been refilled and would now serve as their water reservoir for the journey. Using his multi-pocket traveller's vest he was wearing, Alan carried on him one of the flashlights, his matches, binoculars, camera, notebook, pencil, pen and knife. Robbins had also converted his empty camera bag into a traveller's bag and had filled it with all the food they could gather, including berries, nuts and roasted mushrooms. These rations, enough for three days, were carefully divided and wrapped in unused waste paper bags they had found in the plane's seat pockets. He also carried on him the second flashlight and his journal.

Their flight jackets, although too warm for the new climate, were wrapped in a bundle that could be carried along, by means of a nylon tether - normally meant for glider towing - to serve as sleeping bags, as well as a climbing rope. Alan also insisted on salvaging the plane's liferaft. Julio's small brass compass and the chart of Newbury were their means of navigation. Using his knife, Alan also made three hiking staffs with sharp ends, which could be used in spears in an emergency, since they had no weapons. Finally, the small portable oxygen bottles were also salvaged, to be used in any unforeseen contingencies.

Although there were still some other odds and ends left onboard, they were of little use to them; the plane's lifejackets were useless on land and so were the flight and maintenance logs, when the plane couldn't fly anymore. As for their smashed electronics, which were damaged beyond repair, were not worth salvaging, so they were discarded. By noon, everything was ready. After grounding and securing the aircraft best they could, in hopes that they might be using it again sometime, they sat waiting for the arrival of Hazel and his friends.

Not very far away, in a burrow, two rabbits were reporting to their Chief Rabbit. _"We are telling you sir, the outskirters have formed some sort of conspiracy with talking humans. They have arranged some secret meeting tonight, outside the warren. And that traitorous troublemaker Silver is in on it!"_ The Threarah's eyes opened wide with shock at the mention of talking humans, but quickly shrugged it off as he stared back to the two Owsla officers.

_"Conspiracy with talking humans you say, Scabious? How very interesting. Now what sort of conspiracy is that, I wonder?"_ asked the elderly Chief Rabbit timidly. The Threarah was an ancient rabbit, semi-blinded by cataracts in both eyes, with pale whiskers and eyebrows, and hardly any teeth left in his mouth. Although he had the appearance of a once-powerful rabbit, his old age put him way past his prime. _"We don't know yet sir. That's why we came to you, so you could determine the appropriate action."_

"_Well said, Officer Toadflax. Captain Holly, step forward please!"_ he said, calling to a large, middle-aged rabbit with grey fur and a goatee who stood outside the run, talking to another burly rabbit with a bushy patch of fur between his ears,_ "I want you to take Toadflax, Scabious, Peerton, Bluebell, Pimpernel and Woodruff and go to investigate this matter. Follow those outskirters wherever they are going, but make sure you are not seen; find out what this conspiracy is all about and the names of those involved. If you spot these 'talking humans', capture them and bring them here for questioning, along with those aiding them. Feel free to use force if necessary, however don't kill them if you can help it; I wish to question them at my leisure. Go!"_ Holly nodded and left to summon his officers for their assignment.

The enormous rabbit with the genuine tuft of fur between his ears that had been conversing with Captain Holly, Thlayli - commonly known as Bigwig among his friends - was left alone, trying to reason things out. Although he didn't know the outskirters too well, being an Owsla officer of outskirter ancestry, had given him enough experience to know that many of his fellow officers made a cruel sport of tormenting and exploiting outskirters for their own gain. Although, had he been in the Threarah's position, he would have most likely dismissed Toadflax's story as the product of an overactive imagination without a second thought, he couldn't help but wonder, what were those outskirters really up to? Surely, they weren't aiding a _human_?

It was common knowledge that humans were dangerous, savage brutes that couldn't be tamed. Throughout his career in the Owsla, Bigwig had witnessed the brutality of humans firsthand, having seen many of his comrades lost to the enemy during raids for flayrah, including both his parents. This alone would be enough to take the possibility of a human trespassing here, very seriously indeed. But to meet a tame, _talking_ human? Total nonsense! Then again, was this actually a _human_ they were dealing with, if he could _talk_? What if they were actually on to something? Finally, tired of speculating, Bigwig made up his mind.

Making sure he wasn't being followed, he exited the burrow and made for the outskirters' neighbourhood, to find out the truth for himself before Captain Holly and his Owsla decided to intervene.

Back in his burrow, the elderly Chief Rabbit of Sandleford sat on his straw bedding, feeling very uneasy. The Threarah had been chief of Sandleford most of his adult life, ever since his father had passed away. A dedicated leader, Threar had no mate or kittens, regarding his responsibility for his warren as his top priority in life. His only living relatives were his late sister's children, whom he had unwillingly raised since they were kittens, after their mother had died from the plague of White Blindness that had swept their territory many seasons ago.

Some survivors from an infected neighbourhood warren, Thinial, had fled to Sandleford, bringing the plague with them. Many bucks and does that were infected had to be driven out of the warren to die including his sister Flyairth, or all of Sandleford would have perished as well, leaving many orphans and broken families to move on. His orphaned nephews Silver and Violet – the only survivors from his sister's kittens - were left into his care.

Despite his hopes of having a proud nephew that would someday follow in his footsteps (from his niece Violet, he only expected her to mate with a suitable suitor to continue the family bloodline), that was not to be the case. Silver was an overweight, clumsy rabbit with no sense of true responsibility, having the nerve to befriend outskirters as well as a tendency for reckless behaviour, often landing himself into trouble and embarrassing his uncle in the process.

The Threarah had reluctantly found Silver a position in the Owlsa, in hopes of seeing a change in his hopeless nephew, but with little success. And now, two of his officers had come and reported that Silver was involved in this traitorous scheme with the outskirters, who were aiding this talking human. The Threarah felt disgusted that his own flesh and blood would go so far as to betray his own warren to their deadliest enemy, in favour of his troublemaking, outskirter cronies.

Although finding a talking human was thought to be just a folklore legend, the Threarah secretly knew better; he remembered an ancient secret that his family had passed down from generation to generation, concerning the existence of intelligent humans from long ago, including a foretelling that these humans might someday rise again and probably bring a calamity upon the world with their powers and intelligence. The Threarah cursed himself for foolishly sharing that secret with his careless nephew, who was now betraying his own uncle with his foolishness.

_"I hope the legend of the humans from the dark past before the Blessing hasn't come true. Frith protect us if it has," _the elderly Chief Rabbit muttered darkly, lost deep in his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Hazel and Fiver were on afternoon silflay with the rest of their friends, waiting for nightfall, so they could sneak out of the warren unnoticed, to find Alan and his companions. Even Silver, who was off duty that evening, had come to wait with his friends, so he could help them get past the boundaries undetected. Little did he know that his uncle had him under surveillance and that several Owsla scouts had been following him since he left his burrow and were now watching his every move, only a short distance away!

Hazel was chewing a cowslip, when suddenly he heard a slight moan from Fiver; turning, he saw his brother staring at the field beyond, shuddering violently as another vision entered his mind. "_Fiver, what is it? What's wrong?"_ he said, also staring out at the field for any signs of danger but seeing nothing other that the orange grow of the sunset in the sky just above the trees.

"_It's coming Hazel,"_ Fiver moaned, _"A terrible thing is coming. Look, the field is covered with blood! The trees are on fire and collapsing into the ground. It's coming from the sky…"_

"_What is coming? All I see is the light of the sunset."_ But in his mind, Hazel was finally convinced, _"That strange human was right,"_ he thought, _"It's that vision he spoke about; it's happening just as he foretold. We have to tell him right away."_ Fiver, who had recovered from his vision, turned to his brother in alarm.

_"We have to go away Hazel; all of us. Alan was right; there is a calamity coming to our warren."_

"_We will little brother. Come, we are going to tell Alan about this right now."_ The other rabbits had gathered around them by now, alerted by Fiver's loud moaning.

"_What's the matter with him, Hazel? Another one of those dreams of his, isn't it?"_ asked the grey-furred rabbit called Hawkbit, who had a reputation for his sarcasm, constant complaining, and short-tempered attitude – particularly towards Fiver - which usually landed him in trouble.

"_What was that he said about Alan being right? Hold on. Has this got anything to do with this mysterious human friend of yours, the one you want to introduce us to in secret?"_ Hazel was about to try and explain when another voice from the bushes interrupted them.

"_Introduce them to whom Hazel?"_ asked a stern voice, making them all jump in surprise. Bigwig had emerged from the bushes, staring at each of them suspiciously. Although he wasn't a close friend of Hazel's, like Silver was, the two brothers respected him better that most of the other Owsla officers, who usually held a snide and bullying attitude towards outskirters.

"_What are you doing here, Thlayli?"_ asked Hazel casually, yet worried about how much Bigwig had overheard or what he would do; perhaps he would report them? Although more friendly towards outskirters that his fellow Owsla officers, Bigwig was still a stickler for rules and didn't approve of rule breaking no more that Captain Holly did. The burly veteran refused to spare Hazel so much as a glance.

"_Hazel, I don't have time to listen to pathetic excuses. I want to know the truth about this weird business you and your friends are involved in. All day, the Owsla has been buzzing about some strange human with talking abilities arriving here. I want an explanation and I want it now. Now, out with it!"_

"_Bigwig, I think you've made…"_ Hawkbit tried to protest but Bigwig cut him off with a light growl that always did the trick; of all the Sandlefordians, he didn't have the least patience for Hawkbit and his sarcasm, _"Shut it, you. You can spout more of your hraka later."_ Hawkbit fell silent instantly, as Bigwig turned back to Hazel, his voice slightly softer.

"Look here _Hazel, I don't want to have to arrest you. As a friend, I would advice you to tell me the truth while you still can. Just so you know, the Threarah knows and has already ordered you all under surveillance; the Owsla will arrest anyone who they think is involved, including you Silver," _he said, gesturing sharply at his comrade whose heart skipped a beat, _"Now, what is going on here? Who is this stranger you are meeting in secret?"_

Realising he was in no position to argue, least he get them all taken into custody, Hazel told Bigwig everything he had told the others about Alan and everything the human had told him and Fiver last night. As an afterthought, to make Bigwig understand why they had kept it quiet, he also let him in on the human's apparent knowledge of their future and his accurate prediction of Fiver's vision. When he was done, Bigwig looked stunned, as did all the others at this new piece of information (_"Oh, a wonder-ithe and a prophet too,"_ Hawkbit muttered sarcastically). Bigwig frowned in suspicion.

"_This is a wild tale you are telling me, old chum. You are actually saying that a talking human from another world came to you and claims he knows the future?"_

"_That is exactly what I am saying Thlayli. Apparently he knows names, facts, and other details of things none other than Frith himself could know. After what I just saw, I believe we should take his warning seriously."_ Although Bigwig was not the sort to ignore a warning of danger, he still had doubts.

"_And how do we know that he had not being watching us for some time, learned all this information by spying, and now he just decided to infiltrate the warren by making up this story?"_ the Owsla veteran persisted, _"Any cunning Owsla veteran could pull off a deception like that with little difficulty…"_

"_Maybe he could Bigwig. But that doesn't explain how he could know about Fiver's vision; nobody can predict someone's future thoughts so accurately. Everything he said would happen is happening just as he said it would. It just can't be mere coincidence…" _Bigwig groaned with frustration; although he didn't really believe in Fiver's visions, he realised Hazel had a point.

_"Fine, you convinced me. So what do you intend to do now? The Threarah would never believe such a story, let alone admit a human into the warren, whether he is unusual or not; he's spent half his life protecting the warren from the likes of him. He simply intends to capture this…strange new friend of yours, question him for any dangerous information he might know, and then dispose of him. He cares too much about his warren and is growing too old for such reasoning. He'd either call you a lunatic or a liar, maybe even accuse you of treason…"_

_"I realize that Bigwig, but we can't just ignore it anymore. Beside, if the ithe's warning turns out to be correct - like with Fiver's vision - then our lives might be at stake. I understand you don't trust strangers - I still don't know if I trust him myself - but we have to talk to him again, to find out more about what he knows."_ Although sceptical, Bigwig finally gave in.

"_Fine, I won't try and stop you. But I am coming with you, so I can see this stranger for myself. And if this human acts hostile in any way, any way at all, I'll have to deal with him right there and then; there will be no arguments should it come to that. Do you accept my terms?"_

"_All right, you may act as you see fit, if necessary, but don't let your warrior instincts take over for no good reason. I have already nearly killed him by accident when he was risking himself to save my brother's life; there is no need to repeat that mistake again."_

With Bigwig now also tagging along, they set off into the woods, following Alan's trail, unaware that the Owsla led by Captain Holly, were following them not far behind, while making sure they were not seen or heard.

**Author's note:** Chapter six is up! For any British Army experts, the rank of Major McEwen in the RAF is actually Squadron Leader. I am using Major for short, so don't bother to correct me! Enjoy and please review! Reviews are the best rewards for my efforts to write this story. Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7 A legend becomes a reality?

**December 28th 2012, 11:30am**

Stan Hallows, the assistant flight controller at Sutch and Martin's Flight Club in Sandleford Park, knocked on his boss' office door and entered. Tom Shelton stared at him from behind his desk with crossed hands, "Well?"

"Greenham has confirmed that the chopper has also disappeared. Again, no distress signal was sent and no signs of trouble arose beforehand; they've suspended all further flights in the area until further notice, so we'll have to close down until the investigations are over. I suspect officials will soon be bracing themselves for lawsuits from families. Sir, I believe it is time we informed the families of our clients. We can't postpone the inevitable any longer."

"I guess you are right Stan. There, in that drawer are their forms with their contact details," Tom said, pointing at the file drawer, where he had placed the dossier containing the forged forms (the originals lay shredded in the wastepaper basket under the desk), "Take this stuff down to the police station, and I'll have Sheriff Fowler notify the families. Also, include your and Toot's report on the Cessna's engine; the last thing we need is to get sued for defective aircraft."

Hallows nodded and left, taking the bundle of documents with him. No sooner had he closed the door behind him, than Tom was on the phone with his secret contact again, "Sergey, the situation has become even more complicated. Not only is the Cessna still not found, but now it seems the rescue chopper has also disappeared, apparently by the same unknown cause."

"_Are you serious?"_

"Dead serious. However, I think there is a bright side to all this: with the chopper now lost, they will probably call off the search. The Royal Air Force has already declared our airspace a non-flight zone until further notice. I hear they suspect it was an act of sabotage; others have already taken the bait and suspect it may be Johnson's fault, given his history of…mental instability," he added with an evil chuckle.

"_I see. Well, I will still have my contacts keep a lookout in case something turns up but I think the worst is over. Such a pity our man didn't make it through though. He was a very resourceful fellow."_ However, Tom still felt uneasy.

"Are you sure someone didn't _plan_ for all this to happen? I have been into aviation for twelve years; these disappearances are way out of the normal scheme of things to be similar accidents, not to mention occurring in a_ row_ and at the _same_ location nonetheless. Perhaps it is a faked accident? Perhaps Johnson knew something? Maybe someone decided to shut his mouth off?"

"_I have a suspicion; however it will be my business to sort it out…personally. Have you taken care of the tapes and documents, as I requested?"_

"Everything is in order; my assistant is on his way to the station with the flight reports. Even a thorough investigation will only reveal that Johnson and Shaw were here taking flying lessons and had an accident beyond our control; your man was never on this flight at all. Johnson will most likely take the blame for the entire episode. What about my money?"

"_Meet me at noon on New Year's Eve outside Newtown Common Churchyard; I have already made funeral arrangements for Johnson and Shaw, to hasten up the end of the investigation. Now that the matter is closed, Project Black Inferno can continue on schedule. You have done well, Tom."_

"Thank you sir, you are most kind," Shelton replied in a sickly sweet voice as he put down the phone, dreaming of the six-figure sum he was due to receive soon. _Dirty work definitely has its rewards!_ he thought triumphantly. By January 1st, his debts would be history, along with all the problems that went with them. Then he could sell this crummy business of his and move away, to start his own aerial transport company, or maybe even his own airline…

**Three days later…**

Three new graves had been dug in Newtown Common Churchyard, with the coffins of the 'deceased' about to be lowered to their final resting place; however, the coffins contained no human remains, since the bodies of their supposed occupants had not been recovered for burial. Today was Alan, Derek and Robbins' funerals, 'courtesy' of Sergey, who was delighted to finally see the matter drawn to a close.

As Shelton had anticipated, the search had been called off; the authorities had instead conducted a thorough ground search of New Forest but found no trace of the Cessna, the chopper, or any of the eight people gone missing. They were eventually all declared dead, leaving their families to make funeral arrangements; in Alan, Derek and Robbins' case however, who had no families or other close friends to mourn them, Sergey had taken over their funeral arrangements instead, as part of his plan.

Sergey and Tom watched as the coffins were lowered into the graves, before the gravediggers pilled the loose earth on top, filling in the pits. After a short memorial service, the ceremony was over; the few attendants, including Mrs Hanson, as well as a few colleagues and old acquaintances, departed in a sorrow gaze. Sergey and Tom were the last to leave the churchyard, as they made their way down the road, heading back into town.

"Well Tom, I suppose we can finally close the book on this matter. How this coincidence occurred I don't know, but it doesn't matter anymore. What matters, is that none of our work was compromised and all loose ends have been wrapped up…as quietly as possible. You have done well Tom."

"Couldn't have been easier boss," replied Shelton smugly, "Johnson and Shaw had no family or friends, other than a few co workers and old friends, so we needn't fear of anybody coming asking questions. The pilot Andre's family have made funeral arrangements for him back in his hometown in Spain and suspect nothing. Major McEwen's funeral is being held in Liverpool, as requested by his family, along with the rest of his crew, each by his own family respectively; no loose ends there either. And I suppose you took care of the arrangements for your man?"

"Yes, I had to pull a few…delicate strings on this one; a man leading a double life suddenly dying for real is hard to cover up. According to the police files, he was killed in a _car_ _accident_ outside Overton; there is no evidence that he ever had any contact with Johnson or Shaw whatsoever, so there is no connection."

"Then why did you insist on having him buried here, right next to their graves?" asked Shelton, "Don't you think that it might look a tad bit suspicious…?" But Sergey cleared his throat, cutting Shelton off.

"I have my reasons. Now, you still have some unfinished business to attend to. Johnson and Shaw may be gone, but they may have left some incriminating information behind; information that could end up in the wrong hands, if we let our success make us careless now. I will be sending Sven and a few others to sweep their homes clean of any unwanted evidence they may have left behind. I would like you to escort them on this errand." Feeling his delicate heart pounding with excitement, he took out his box of nitro pills and swallowed one, "And don't cash your cheque until next week, in case someone is watching your bank balance, understood?"

"Very well boss. But _when_ do I get my cheque?" Reaching into his pocket for his chequebook, Sergey realised he had forgotten it at home. Shrugging it off, he turned to his associate.

"Come, let's go back to the Hall for a shot of vodka to celebrate; I can also give you your cheque there." Sergey turned around and cast one last look at the graves, smiling, _These graves will serve a noble purpose. Project Black Inferno will soon be ready to launch!_ he thought, thinking of something he had personally smuggled into the empty coffins before they had left the funeral home. Then he turned and followed his associate back towards Newtown Common.

"So much for Dr Johnson; who would have thought he'd do us such a generous favour and getting himself killed _on his own accord_, saving us the trouble. Shame about our man going down with him for no reason though; had I known fate would be smiling on us, I wouldn't have wasted him on a pointless assignment. That just leaves one last little matter left to resolve… Ow!"

Suddenly, Sergey gave a loud groan and collapsed, clutching his chest in agony. Tom run up to him and turned him over. The Russian was chalk white, his lips turning blue and his mouth foaming. Tom froze, recognising the symptoms, "Damn, he is having a heart attack!" Quickly, he dialled an emergency number on his cell phone, requesting medical aid, while Sergey turned and vomited all over the ground. Ten minutes later, an ambulance was on the scene. Two paramedics hoisted Sergey onto a stretcher and carried him to the ambulance. The elderly man was transported to a private hospital in London and put on life support.

A week later, Tom received a phone call from London, informing him that 'Mr Buxton' had died in hospital from heart failure, much to his dismay, as he his boss had, ironically, died before he could pay him. Shortly after Sergey's death, the Red Hand Brotherhood aborted, as the location of their 'most important shipment' had also died with Sergey. The remaining faction members, after destroying all evidence that linked their names to the faction, split up and went different ways. Project Black Inferno was abandoned and soon forgotten altogether.

Tom Shelton, never got the money of his dreams Sergey had promised him, went bankrupt, and eventually died in poverty. Sven Shertok, Sergey's deputy, managed to rebuild his life and enjoyed a successful career in the Royal Engineers. Dr Drake came out of hiding, only to discover his wife and son were already dead; the only thing he had left was a dirty but vast inheritance from his evil father. After he had sorted his family's affairs in order, he returned to his work in earnest, using his newfound fortune to finance the most challenging scientific project in history, in the memory of his vanished colleague, whom he had betrayed and led to his death. This project became the centre of his existence for the next 30 years, up until the very day of his death…

**March 11th 2791, Sandleford**

The group of seven rabbits, with Hazel and Fiver in the lead, made their way through the woods until they reached the clearing on the edge of the marshland Alan had described to them. Hazel turned and looked at his friends, amused by their expressions of utter amazement. They certainly hadn't been expecting something as spectacular as this!

"Frith and thunder, it's that mysterious bird my patrol saw two nights ago!" Silver gasped in surprise as he recognised the aircraft, "We thought it was some sort of elil and run for cover, but then it vanished like the wind…"

Bigwig was also stared at the sight with equal bewilderment, "Where in Frith's name did that thing come from? I have never seen anything remotely like it before. And look, there they are those ithel!" he growled softly, as he spotted Alan and his companions standing a short distance away, feeling his fighting instincts about to kick in at the sight of _humans_, but managing to control himself as he noticed how…_unusual_ they were.

"Well, I've got to hand it to you Hazel; those creatures are _not_ the humans I expected," he muttered in disbelief, staring at the three humans' strange appearance (namely their clothing), while struggling to grasp the fact that they were actually _talking_, just as Hazel and Fiver had said.

Alerted by their voices, Alan turned and saw their visitors approaching. He smiled; Hazel hadn't betrayed his trust. He whistled in amazement as he spotted the other rabbits following Hazel, all of which matched the descriptions he knew from the book. Beside him, Derek and Robbins stood as if rooted to the ground, completely dumbstruck at the sight of the giant rabbits, realising Alan hadn't been mad. Hazel and Fiver reached Alan first and Alan couldn't suppress a frown as he realised their faces were on fire with worry, rather than excitement.

"What's up? You didn't get into trouble or something, did you…?"

"It happened," Fiver said in a shaky voice, "The vision you predicted I would have, just happened, exactly as you described it. There _is_ a bad danger coming to our warren." Realising what that meant, Alan knelt in front of the seer buck, which was only about half his height.

"I wish I had been wrong Fiver. Then you wouldn't have to face all the challenges fate has in store for you and your friends," he replied, realising that the plot of the book had to be real as well, and unfolding with every passing minute, consequently placing a huge responsibility on his shoulders. The impossible had happened.

"It isn't your fault Alan; besides, having you on our side is a great advantage to us, since you can forewarn us of anything that happens," Hazel said encouragingly to Alan who smiled. The other rabbits were all struck dumb at seeing, what they could only describe as a 'rabbit-like human', who could talk and socialise with them.

Soon Alan and his two companions were being introduced to Hazel's friends, all of whom Alan could vaguely recognise from the book. It was incredible; these giant rabbits, although roughly similar to normal rabbits, had many strange traits and characteristics. They seemed to walk and run on all fours, yet they would stand in an upright position when talking like kangaroos, and even use their forepaws to perform various 'hand' gestures such as pointing and touching, like humans did, something completely unheard off in ordinary rabbits.

Their faces, in contrast to normal rabbits, displayed many human expressions such as smiling or frowning; even their eyes, which resembled those of humans, complete with whites and coloured irises, shone with intelligence and Alan could tell they weren't colour-blind. Their voices, although human-like, complete with language, still had a trace of rabbit sounds in their tone, such as cooing and faint grinding noises caused by their jaw movements, each with a different level of deepness, which allowed Alan to easily distinguish between buck and doe and even to guess their age.

It was almost as if they were _physically_ rabbits, but human-like in nature, complete with ability of speech, high intelligence, and civilised behaviour. And currently, Alan felt certain that the strange inhabitants of this world were thinking along the same lines about him and his companions. With the exception of a dwarf buck that seemed to be the only child in the group, the rest of the bucks seemed to be late teenagers, of around the same age.

Aside from Hazel and Fiver, there was Pipkin, a chubby, yet adorable dwarf rabbit with an intriguing curiosity, who had been taken in by Hazel and Fiver after the deaths of his parents from a weasel attack. In comparison to the rest of the group, he was the smallest and the youngest and easily the most innocent and childish, his full height barely reaching up to Alan's knees. There was Hawkbit, a blackish-grey rabbit with a rather sarcastic demeanour, yet seemed a really likeable sort. Dandelion, a slender golden-furred buck, was the outskirters' storyteller with a reputation of entertaining his friends with the tales of El-ahrairah.

Also, there was Silver, a scout in the Sandleford Owsla and nephew of the Chief Rabbit, a large, overweight, yet very friendly rabbit with stunning silvery white fur. Finally, there was Bigwig, an enormous and well-built Owsla officer who had the look of a great warrior. Despite his stern, non-smiling expression and firm tone, he seemed a good-natured fellow. He seemed to be the eldest in the group, as well as the strongest. Atop his head, Alan even noticed the all-too-familiar patch of fur he had read about in the book, but had always found hard to imagine in real life.

"So you actually come from another world?" asked Pipkin from beside Fiver, staring in amazement at the human before him. Although a skittish and insecure rabbit, Pipkin had been the first to recognise the friendliness in the stranger and taken the initiative to get to know him better.

"That's right, Hlao-roo," Alan replied, grinning at Pipkin, who stood amazed as to how this human, whom he had never met before, knew his birth name. The other rabbits too, were equally stunned by the fact that Hazel had been right about this human who, not only was an intelligent and friendly being - rather than an eli - but also that his inexplicable knowledge of their future was real.

The chitchat soon evolved into a heated conversation. Overwhelmed with amazement, yet having regained their confidence, the rest of the rabbits soon joined in, all uncertainty of this 'alien' human entirely forgotten. Even Bigwig, finally assured of the humans' trustworthiness, finally joined in. Only Robbins seemed to be avoiding the conversation, although he introduced himself with courtesy to the rabbits before stepping aside.

Hawkbit, Dandelion and Silver had extended their conversation to Derek, who was struggling to explain to them how the plane worked. Although the engineer prided himself for his vast knowledge of mechanics, he found that trying to explain the simple principles of aerodynamics to a group of rabbits that couldn't even _imagine_ such a concept possible, proved to be quite a challenge.

"By Frith of Inle, chap, you are talking about things beyond imagination!" exclaimed Dandelion, "A hrududu that can _fly_? That's something I've got to see someday. Just imagine the look on Blackberry's face when we tell him about all this." Blackberry was the advisor to the Chief Rabbit, an ingenious buck of outskirter parentage. Although he remained on good terms with the outskirters after joining the Threarah's Council, mostly due to his parentage, he insisted on keeping it private, as not to discredit his hard-earned reputation.

"I must say old chap, how in Frith's name do you know so much about us, yet we never seen the likes of you before?" asked Bigwig, "The humans _we_ know are nothing like you; they only live to kill and destroy. Are you all…magical seers or something? Although, I could swear, after everything Hazel and Fiver has been telling me, you sound more like an Owsla veteran than a seer. Not many of us would chase after an attacking homba, to save a rabbit they've never even met… Where in Frith's name are you getting all this information I have been hearing?"

"I know everything about you from your life story that's being told back in my world," Alan explained, "It contains every detail on you guys, including your language, the tales of El-ahrairah, and all your foretold adventures. And by the way, I actually am - or rather_ was_ - a former soldier, in the _human_ Owsla that is."

"Really?" asked Bigwig, his curiosity peaked. Being an Owsla veteran, who couldn't think of life without some action and adventure, he took great pride in meeting others who'd follow in his footsteps – even a human, "What rank? Don't tell me you're a crummy aid to some carrot-stiff-necked officer…" Alan chuckled.

"Hardly, I was an enlisted man, who rose to the rank of Corporal before resigning (Bigwig looked scandalised at this). I wanted to remain close to my family. Not that it did me much good," he muttered, his excited voice suddenly turning grim, as the memories of his wife and daughter resurfaced again.

"What happened?"

"They were murdered…and a real horrible killing too," Alan explained sadly, as he launched into his story of the tragedy that had changed his life forever. He had never discussed this topic openly with anyone, not even Derek, yet now he found that by spilling his grief to the heroes of his favourite book, he felt a suffocating weight suddenly lift off his chest. And the reactions of his newfound friends shocked him.

Fiver and Pipkin were in tears; Hazel and Silver were staring at Alan with great pity; Bigwig, utterly disgusted by the poacher's actions, kept muttering angry threats about 'cowards who can't fight their opponents face-to-face, so instead they take it out on the weaker ones'. Fiver however, finally understanding the pain he had sensed in Alan's heart and realising they had unintentionally just forced their new friend to recall some of his worst memories, placed a comforting paw on the man's arm.

"Alan, you mustn't blame yourself for what happened. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it; the only one at fault is that evil coward who used his henchmen as a shield and then killed your family for his own dark satisfaction. But know this: we all understand the pain and suffering you have endured. It doesn't matter if you are human or if our Chief Rabbit has a different view of humans; we trust you and consider you a friend." The other rabbits, including Bigwig, who normally harboured a great distrust for humans, although surprised by Fiver's words, nodded in agreement. However, nobody noticed Robbins, who was frowning, as if in disapproval, at the sight of Alan being sympathised by these talking rabbits.

"Thank you Fiver. It really means a lot to me," Alan said, patting the young rabbit between the ears. He remembered how many – including his in-laws - had blamed him for the deaths of his family and demanded he be arrested, forcing him to quit his job and succumb to depression. Yet now, he was standing amidst a group where no one thought ill of him and understood his troubles on principle. Perhaps this strange place was where he could hope to find happiness again? His pleasure was short-lived however when Bigwig suddenly spoke in a more serious tone.

"Look here chum, although we accept you as a friend, you do realise that your…knowledge of our future, gives you a great responsibility? If there is indeed a calamity coming as you say it is, then it is your duty to get us through it!" At this, Alan felt rather uneasy; Bigwig was asking him to assume an overwhelming responsibility, one that might mean putting the lives of his new friends at risk if he didn't play his cards right. However, it was too late to turn back now.

"I'll help you in anyway I can, but you must understand something: We can't take for granted what the future holds in store for you. I am still not even sure if everything is happening just like in your life's story; my role here was never foretold, thus we can't be certain about how things will turn out or how my interference will affect anything."

"So what should we do? Perhaps we should assemble anyone willing to join us and leave now that we still have a chance?" suggested Silver.

"Nobody is going anywhere. You are all under arrest," interrupted a stern voice from behind them. Turning, Alan saw half a dozen other rabbits emerge from the bushes, surrounding them. Leading the squad was a stern-faced buck with pale grey fur and reddish eyes, which Alan recognised as Captain Holly, head of the Sandleford Owsla. And apparently, Alan's presence here was hardly in his good books, much less the fact that Hazel and his friends had been concealing him from the Chief Rabbit.

"Under arrest? On what charges, Holly?" Bigwig growled, staring at his commanding officer with a dangerous expression, as if daring him to pull a fight with him if he wanted to take them in. Holly gave him a disapproving glare, much like a court martial addressing a traitorous soldier caught in the act.

"For incitement to mutiny and for concealing an enemy," Holly replied coldly, staring in the direction of Alan, Derek and Robbins with a mixture of surprise and distrust, before turning to face the outskirters, "The same charges stand for all of you. You can either come quietly or attempt to resist and force us to retaliate. Your new friends here are also to come along for questioning by the Threarah. Owsla, take them!" His troopers positioned themselves around the group, waiting for them to obey.

"You don't understand Captain Holly," Fiver pleaded with the strict Owsla captain, "They aren't enemies; they are here to help us. I think our warren is in danger…" But Holly only shoved him back, non-too gently, "Learn not to speak out of line, you insolent little runt! Your overactive imagination has gotten you into enough trouble already." Hazel stepped between Holly and Fiver.

"You touch my brother again and you're a dead rabbit!" he growled in Holly's face, causing the Owsla captain to frown dangerously at the threat, "It's _you_ who'll be killed outskirter," he growled, about to strike Hazel in retaliation. But Alan held out a hand to stop him, before it could lead to an ugly scuffle.

"There is no need for that - Captain Holly, isn't it? We'll come along quietly, just as long as get a chance to talk to your Chief." Holly gave Alan a cold look as he roughly pulled his paw out of Alan's grip, "Oh, you _will_ come along quietly, if you know what's good for you stranger, and I hope you have a good explanation for trespassing here. Very well, I'll forget that little outburst…just this time," he said, giving Hazel a cold look of warning.

Bigwig was about to retort too, perhaps in a way that would have him arrested for assaulting a superior officer, but Alan put a firm hand on his shoulder to stop him. He whispered in his ear, so that Holly couldn't hear, "Don't do anything yet. Even if we escape now, we will be leaving behind many others to die. This may be my only chance to get an audition with your Chief, to try and warn him about the upcoming danger. If I can make him see reason, then we might be able to save everyone." Although he seriously doubted the Threarah could be persuaded to take Alan's word, Bigwig gruffly nodded and calmed his nerves.

The Owsla led them all back towards the warren; Holly's rabbits walked alongside the group in an orderly manner, ensuring no escape attempts were made, every now and then cuffing an outskirter over the hunch to make him walk faster. Several of Holly's troopers had remained behind to guard the plane, on Holly's orders, possibly thinking that Alan had more companions out there. Soon, they came to a burrow entrance at the foot of an ancient oak.

Holly entered first; Alan could hear him conversing in Lapine with someone below. An unfamiliar elderly voice - presumably the Chief Rabbit - answered him, also in Lapine. He hoped that the Chief Rabbit could speak English, since he didn't know enough Lapine for a conversation. Soon Holly was back and ordered them to follow him inside. Scabious gave Derek a rather rough push on the shoulder as he entered and Alan had to restrain his friend from turning round and punching the bullying rabbit on the nose.

Down the run, he lit his flashlight, which penetrated the gloom, allowing them to see his surroundings, as the guards led them deep into the heart of the warren. Hazel and his friends were taken into another direction, probably to a holding burrow, leaving the three humans on their own with Holly and several guards.

They walked down a tunnel that split in many directions, making the place look like an underground maze. Many curious rabbits were staring at them from side runs in amazement, as they walked past. Alan recognised Bluebell who was staring at him with wide eyes, as if he were a rare specimen on display in a zoo. Beside him stood a familiar doe with silvery-grey fur and deep blue eyes like sapphires, whom Alan had also seen earlier when spying on the warren; it was Silver's sister, Violet, who was Bluebell's mate. In contrast to her mate however, she shrank back at Alan's gaze, apparently weary of humans.

After a short walk through the underground maze of tunnels, they came to some sort of chamber, which resembled an underground grotto – the largest and most spacious burrow Alan had seen so far. At the far end, on some straw bedding, lay a fat, elderly rabbit with thick grey whiskers and eyebrows. He looked ancient and Alan wondered maybe he was semi-cynical from old age or perhaps had suffered a mild stroke, judging from his unfocused expression. Holly spoke in a pompous tone behind Alan.

"This is the Threarah, our Chief Rabbit. He will be questioning you. You are to answer only when spoken to and you are to answer respectfully and truthfully. I don't want to hear any bluffing or rudeness, is that understood? Also, you are to remain seated unless told otherwise. Any violence or disobedience on your part will bring about serious repercussions." He turned back to his Chief, "The prisoners are waiting sir."

"Thank you Captain Holly. Please leave us; I will deal with Thlayli, Silver, and the outskirters later."

Holly nodded and left the cavern, probably to brief Hazel and the others of their upcoming punishment, leaving Alan, Derek, and Robbins alone with the Threarah. However, two guards remained at attention just outside the entrance. The Threarah cleared his throat and shifted his attention to Alan, trying not to look in the direction of the bright light radiating from the man's flashlight.

"Well stranger, I suppose you already know why you and your friends have been brought here. My Owsla caught you plotting a conspiracy against me with the help of those outskirters. Well, you will do well to remember this: desertion and revolt are not tolerated around here. Furthermore, attempting to infiltrate the warren is even more serious a crime. Apparently you three are responsible for persuading those blind fools into doing your bidding. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?" Derek seemed about to retort in a rather rude manner, but Alan raised a hand to silence him.

"Actually, Threarah, we do," he answered calmly, ignoring the aged rabbit's stern glare. He had past experience, - after he had learned the hard way – and knew how important it was to control his temper at moments like this and remain calm, yet firm, if he wanted to achieve anything. He hoped it would now work to his advantage. Indeed, the elderly rabbit, seemingly surprised by his politeness and apparent respect for his authority, looked at him with a softer gaze, "Very well. Let's hear it then."

"Threarah, we don't mean any trouble. We've only come to warn you that your warren and people are under grave threat," Alan said, deliberately avoiding the part of explaining where they came from – which he doubted the old rabbit would believe anyway - hoping that the Threarah would sense the urgency in his voice and put aside his assumption that he meant trouble.

"A bad danger you say?" asked the Chief Rabbit with very little interest - much to Alan's dismay - as he lazily took a bite out of a cowslip beside him, "And what sort of danger I wonder?"

"A complete annihilation of your warren and everyone in it." Alan was hoping that the Threarah would have enough sense of caution to realise he wasn't kidding and inquire further; to his utmost disappointment, however, the elderly rabbit didn't seem the least concerned at the warning.

"How very upsetting. And what exactly is the cause of this calamity?" he asked, showing no sigh that he actually believed Alan, rather than simply playing along. Not wanting to end up in a hot seat by confessing to the Threarah that it may in fact be humans behind all this – if there were humans in this world at all - he answered carefully.

"I don't know that sir. However…" he went on, before the Threarah could interrupt him, "I am certain that it happens sometime in the next few days and I am positive about the danger." The Threarah looked thoughtful; although Alan's story sounded absurd, the level of seriousness in the man's voice hadn't slipped his notice. He considered for a moment.

"Very well. Since you were technically acting on my behalf, we will wait and find out if your warning is true, before passing any judgement. Should any sign of this _danger_ present itself, then I'll see to it that the appropriate action is taken at once." Alan rolled his eyes; this tactic would make it look like child's play, if his fear of the upcoming catastrophe proved to be correct – however that happened.

"But Threarah, surely if you want to ensure your people's safety, then you must act without…" But the Threarah, having heard enough, interrupted him this time, "In the meantime, you and your companions will be my guests. That will be all stranger." He summoned Captain Holly back in and whispered instructions into his ear. Holly nodded.

"Captain Holly will show you to your quarters. You can tell me more about it…in the summer." Without another word, he turned back to his dinner. As he turned his back to them, Alan heard him mutter something that sounded like "once and always the same, the lot of them", before he felt Holly grab a mouthful of his shirt collar and roughly pull him to his feet, "All right, come along you three, I haven't got all evening."

They followed Holly down a side run into another chamber, much smaller than the Threarah's. He ushered them in and before departing he said, "You are to remain confined to this burrow, unless you have an Owsla escort. The Threarah may have decided you are no immediate threat but he could always withdraw his leniency regarding security, should you cause any trouble. Oh, and those are for your hunger," he added, nodding towards some apples that were scattered in a corner, which were for their dinner. Without another word, he turned and left.

"Well, so much for your 'peaceful approach' Dr Johnson," Robbins sneered, "Now we've had it for good!" Derek sat down to calm his nerves, "That old coot… Who does he think he is, the bloody Prince of Wales…?"

At that moment, Toadflax and Scabious appeared, escorting Bigwig, Silver, Hazel and Fiver, "Your associates have been brought to keep you company for the night, filthy ithel!" Scabious sneered as he and his companion roughly shoved the group into the small burrow, gave them all a triumphant smirk and left. Bigwig, who seemed to be on the verge of turning around and striking the two corrupt Owsla scouts, was restrained by Silver and Hazel. Alan turned to them, "Was it bad?"

"Both of us have had our Owsla ranks revoked and I've even been disowned by my Uncle," Silver said grimly, "Not that I really cared anyway…"

"I told you the Threarah wouldn't be so easy," Bigwig said, "And it isn't over yet; it seems he's going to wait, so he can prove that you're 'lying' before having you executed as spies, plotting a revolt to overthrow him. The rest of us will probably be facing banishment afterwards…"

"If he lives long enough to do so," Alan replied grimly, "He said he would detain us until he can confirm our story and if something happens, he will take immediate action; in other words, he intends to wait until it's too late. That pompous, old crackpot has no idea what he's doing… No offence, Silver," he added hastily to Silver who surprisingly enough, didn't seem the least offended at having his uncle insulted. Apparently the Chief and his nephew had some serious family issues, or Silver wouldn't be in custody now.

"None taken chum. Besides, if what you say is true, my uncle's blind stupidity is going to get us all killed."

"So what's to be done now? Should we fight our way out and then make a run for it? Personally, I'd hate to miss the opportunity of giving all those thick headed mules a piece of my mind!" Bigwig said, his mind reflecting to Toadflax and Scabious, who would soon be promoted to officers for 'unravelling a revolt', replacing the treacherous Silver and Bigwig.

"No, that will never work. We are right in the heart of the warren and the burrows down here are the Owsla's personal quarters. We can't possibly take them all, at least not without suffering serious injury or even death on our part," Silver said, shaking his head.

"There was something very odd about the Threarah," Alan said suddenly, remembering the Chief Rabbit's accusations, "He said the Owsla had _seen_ us plotting a conspiracy with you, to overthrow him. How could his mind have formed such an idea? You said the Owsla knew nothing about us; do you suppose someone decided to bluff him?"

"Toadflax…" Bigwig said suddenly, as his mind made the connection.

"What about that rabbit?"

"It was he and Scabious reported you to the Threarah; I saw them myself. They claimed to have overheard you planning a conspiracy back in Hazel's burrow. But surely you weren't discussing such a thing, were you Hazel?" asked the burly veteran, turning to look sharply at Hazel, who shook his head in denial.

"Don't talk rot, of course not. I was just asking our friends not to turn us in, to avoid getting us into trouble. If I didn't know that bullying, lying miscreant any better, I'd say he just sugercoated his story, hoping to earn a promotion. You know how desperately he wanted the rank of senior officer." The others nodded in angry realisation.

"Well, I guess he is responsible for our predicament. Perhaps I could have persuaded the Threarah to take my word, if he didn't see me as a threat to begin with," Alan said bitterly.

"I am going to thrash him so badly, he will be screaming for the Black Rabbit, long before I am done with him!" Bigwig muttered quietly, his eyes flashing with anger. Having his rank revoked because of a lying foot soldier was a great insult to the mighty veteran's pride and just as much to his fellow Owsla comrade, who nodded in agreement.

"It doesn't matter whose fault it was; we have more important priorities, namely getting out of here in one piece. What happened to the others by the way?" Derek asked, noticing the absence of Hawkbit, Dandelion and Pipkin.

"They were let off with a good scolding; the Threarah doesn't have time to bother with outskirters," Silver said, "Most likely, they'll be sentenced to the digging squads throughout mating season; that's the most common punishment for outskirters. The reason they chose to detain us is that Bigwig and I are Owsla officers who have been found guilty of treason for attempting to conceal you. As for Hazel and Fiver, it is common knowledge by now that they are in league with you and are also accused of treason. Toadflax recited your entire conversation to the Threarah…_his_ way," he muttered in disgust.

"So what do we do now?" Fiver asked, looking rather scared, "I can feel the danger getting closer," he murmured, a slight tremor visible in his body, as if he was shivering in a cold breeze; the buck's sixth sense, which gave him premonitions of imminent danger, was acting like an alarm for the upcoming catastrophe. Although Alan was wondering _what_ would cause the catastrophe, since there didn't seem to be any intelligent humans in this world, with motorised vehicles or poisonous gas, he didn't want to wait long enough to find out. Doing some quick thinking, he turned to his companions.

"I have an idea. Derek, Robbins, you still have your equipment on you?" They both shook their heads, "No, everything is back at the plane; I only have the thermos, which I kept by accident. We didn't think that we would actually be needing those spears so soon…" But Alan wasn't giving up; going through his vest pockets, he took out his anti-depression pills and his alcohol-filled hipflask, which were all he needed for his plan.

"Good. Alright, Derek, pass me a piece of paper, anything smooth," he said, also drawing his trusty knife from its holster. Derek handed him his notebook to use as a working surface. Carefully placing the pills on the smooth surface of the notebook, he started grinding them to powder using the blade of his knife. Then he poured the powder into the thermos, which was full of water, along with some alcohol from his hipflask. Sealing the thermos, he shook it hard, allowing the drug and alcohol to mix; the result was a simple but powerful, homemade narcotic, which he had learned to make during his months of depression.

"Smell," he said putting it close to Bigwig's face, to test if the drug was traceable by scent. The burly rabbit obeyed, with a puzzled look on his face, "I can't smell anything bad about it. What is it?" Alan withdrew the thermos, satisfied that it wasn't traceable by scent, which would have otherwise ruined their plan.

"Perfect. That's exactly how we want it," Alan said, ignoring Bigwig's question, "If we can only find a way for the Owsla – all of them - to drink this stuff somehow, we could put them all out of action and escape without their noticing. But how?" They all shrugged back; how on earth were they suppose to trick an entire warren into helping themselves to the narcotic and going to sleep?

"I think we just may be in luck," Silver said suddenly, "The burrow next to this are the flayrah stores for the elite; we rarely have prisoners in custody, so most of the unused prison burrows are used as food storage for the Chief and Owsla." Alan patted the chubby buck between the ears, "You're bloody brilliant Silver, you know that? If our hosts' buffet is within our reach, then all we have to is add 'a touch of spices' to tonight's meal, and then…we've outlived our welcome!"

"But how exactly are we reach it without drawing attention from the guards?" Robbins asked, gesturing at the guards passing outside their burrow every few seconds, making sure their prisoners stayed put. Alan ignored him and stared at the burrow wall; he could also remember passing that other burrow on the way here. It couldn't be more than eight feet away at most…

"It's too simple; we _tunnel_ through this wall, into the next-door burrow. All we need is a distraction while we're working, so the guards don't realise what we're up to." His eyes fell on the apples Holly had left them, "Derek and Robbins, you two start munching on those; do it as slow and as loudly as you can, so it can muffle out the sound of the digging. The rest of us will take turns with the digging while you shield us from view. If a guard shows up, snap your fingers so we can stop."

They got to work; while the rabbits handled most of the digging (much to Bigwig's displeasure, who hated digging), Alan shoved away the building piles of earth using his hands. Half an hour later, they had penetrated the wall and Alan was able to crawl through into the storage burrow, carrying the thermos of narcotic under his arm. After giving it a good shake to refresh the mixture, he opened the cap and began sprinkling all over the dried-up cabbages, carrots, cowslips and apples, scattered in piles around the burrow. Non-traceable by scent, the narcotic resembled moisture soaking the flayrah and – hopefully – giving it a more appetizing look than its current dried-up state.

He was just about done, when he saw Hazel's face appear through the tunnel, "Bigwig says the Owsla are on their way to get their evening silflay. Get back!" Not waiting for a second warning, Alan crawled back into the prison burrow and the seven of them quickly covered up the hole with dirt and stones.

"We're in business; soon, it will be time for the Sandman and then we can wish everyone sweet dreams!"

They watched officers march by carrying chunks of flayrah in their mouths, probably heading off to their quarters, to eat their dinner in privacy, or share it with their does. Alan checked his watch, using it as a timer to calculate how much time before everyone was drugged. How long would it take; half an hour? The minutes ticked by. Soon, a deathly silence filled the maze of burrows and runs; the entire warren had been put to sleep. Alan turned to his group.

"Well, that's it then. There's no turning back anymore. Let's go!" Retaining full alertness, in case someone was still conscious, the group crept out of the burrow, walking past the guards lying unconscious on the floor, making their way towards the exit, where they intended to round up the rest of the outskirters and anyone else willing to join them and depart. Suddenly, Fiver called a halt.

"Wait. What about all the others down here? We can't just leave them like this; they will be killed!" he said looking at all the drugged rabbits lying around. Alan realised Fiver had a point; if disaster struck before the drug wore off, then all the rabbits down here would be condemned to die, without a chance save themselves; that would make them responsible for _murder_.

"How about we move them all out?" Derek suggested, "This way, they will be above ground and away from danger should something happen before they wake up," Although it would still mean leaving all these unconscious rabbits as easy prey for any elil out in the open, under the circumstances it was a risk worth taking.

"That's a good idea. All right, we start moving them out then. Bigwig, Silver and I will handle this. Derek, you stand outside the entrance and keep a sharp lookout for any remaining Owsla scouts; Fiver, you and Hazel go and assemble the other outskirters and anyone else you think will be willing to join us and make it fast. Robbins, you go back to the plane and get the rest of our gear. Come on then, chop-chop!"

Evacuating a warren of unconscious rabbits wasn't an easy task. Although Alan, Bigwig and Silver were strong enough to carry one rabbit each out at a time, moving through narrow burrows with an unconscious body on their backs was extremely slow work. An hour later most of the rabbits had been moved out and lay side by side on the edge of the meadow outside. Derek stood on guard, while Silver, Bigwig and Alan continued with the evacuation. They were just about to move another rabbit - an Owsla scout called Pimpernel - out, when a stern voice rang out from the depths of the run.

"What do you think you are doing outside? I thought I said you are not to leave the burrow without permission. And…" Captain Holly had shown up and caught them in the act; he stopped and stared around the empty burrow and then at the unconscious Pimpernel in Alan's arms. The man felt his blood turn cold with dread, as he watched Holly's face become contorted with fury, probably thinking there had been a massacre, "Holly, this isn't what you think…" But the stern captain of Owsla would hear none of it.

"WHAT IN FRITH'S NAME IS GOING ON HERE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM? WHERE ARE ALL THE OTHERS? YOU KILLED THEM ALL! I WILL KILL YOU FOR THIS, YOU EMBLEER ITHE!" Holly bellowed and he lunged at Alan. But Bigwig was faster. In an instant, he had Holly pinned him to the ground, with an iron grip about the Owsla Captain's throat. Holly appeared to be suffocating under Bigwig's massive weight, as the burly veteran fixed him with a stern gaze.

"Holly, you listen to me and listen good. I don't want to have to hurt you, so don't force me to, you hear? Now, if I loosen my grip on you, will you stay calm and listen to us?" Holly nodded grimly, "It's not as if I have much choice, is it?" Bigwig removed his paw from his captain's throat, but still kept him pinned to the ground in case he tried to strike again. Holly gave his former fellow officer an angry glare as Bigwig explained.

"Our warren is in danger Holly. Because those hraka-minded liars Toadflax and Scabious dished out some conspiracy story to the Threarah and to you, he doesn't believe Alan's warning. So we are taking matters into our own paws: Alan has put the whole warren to sleep so we can evacuate them all, now that there is still a chance to save everyone. If you really care about the well being of this warren, I suggest you help us in any way you can. What's it going to be?"

Holly looked shocked by the fact that one of his best Owsla officers was actually defending a _human_, not to mention accusing two of his fellow comrades of deception. However, in contrast to the Threarah, he was quick to notice the sense of urgency in his officer's voice, making him realise there was something more going on. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him and he spoke in a slightly calmer voice.

"You say Toadflax and Scabious _made it up_? But they swore they overheard you and your friends plotting against the Threarah. And - don't try to deny it - in the woods I overheard you _myself_ saying that you intended to desert the warren and join _him_," he said, staring at Alan.

"And you heard us correctly," supplied Silver coldly, "We have every intention to go on living and if my biased uncle refuses to believe us over two lying idiots out to steal your captaincy, then we have no choice but to act without his consent." At the mention of his captaincy threatened by two of his own scouts, Holly felt taken aback. True, he too was aware of Toadflax and Scabious' reputation of bullying, but never suspected they would go as far as to actually try and deceive the _Threarah_! Yet, hating to be proven wrong, he was still determined to push the matter forward.

"And how can you be so sure that your new…_friend_ isn't bluffing as well, with the intention of coaxing you into doing his bidding? True, so far he hasn't proven himself hostile, but that doesn't prove his _trustworthiness_, does it? How do we know his _kindness_ isn't actually an act of _cunning_?" he retorted sharply. Bigwig was about to retort, probably to say he'd rather take Alan's word over Toadflax's any day, when suddenly, a strange new noise from above ground, caught their attention.

"What in Frith's name is that? I've never heard it before," Silver gasped in surprise, his ears extended. Alan felt his heart skip a beat as he recognised the familiar whooshing sound of a helicopter rotor; someone else had made it through as well, probably a rescue mission out searching for him and his companions! But then he felt the blood run cold as he realised the chopper had to be in trouble, having heard the familiar whirring sound of a failing rotor many times during the war when aircraft were shot down by anti-flack guns. With sick dread, he realised it was coming closer; the chopper was about to crash right into the warren like a flying bomb! He turned to the others.

"Run for it! It's happening! The warren is about to go up in flames. Run!"

Still carrying the unconscious Pimpernel between them, Alan, Bigwig and Silver bolted for the exit. Holly hesitated for an instant, surprised how they were apparently risking themselves to help the unconscious rabbit, but then followed them. But they never got there; suddenly, there was a violent vibration, followed by the deafening noise of crushing metal on wood, as the chopper tore through the trees above their heads in a crash-landing. Then the entire tunnel started collapsing all around them; soil fell from the crumbling ceiling in torrents, turning the air suffocating.

"Everybody shut your eyes and hold your breaths!" Alan shouted as he quickly grabbed a handful of his shirt and placed it over his mouth and nose to prevent inhaling the deadly dust, kneeling in a crouched position, and his hands over his head. Soon the vibration stopped and the dust began to settle.

Alan slowly opened his eyes and found himself engulfed in total darkness, pinned to the ground by fallen debris. Going for his flashlight, he found he had lost it in the disaster; fingering through his pockets, he found his box of matches. Striking one, he saw most of the tunnel had caved in by the disturbance; in the direction where the exit had been a minute ago, now there was nothing but piled-up fallen debris; their only way out was gone. He sighed in exasperation; a legend had indeed become a reality.

Meanwhile, Derek and Robbins, accompanied by Hazel, Fiver, Pipkin, Hawkbit and Dandelion, had barely managed to make it to safety of a nearby hillside, dragging their still unconscious fellow rabbits over their shoulders. After spotting the chopper about to crash straight into the warren, Derek had shouted at the others to get clear; everyone had grabbed an unconscious rabbit and bolted for their lives. Not a moment too soon, the chopper had come down right into the midst of the warren like a falling meteor from the skies.

They all turned to look back in the direction of the warren; although, by a complete stroke of luck, the chopper had not burst into flame on impact, the disturbance had been equivalent to that of a giant cannonball. The group watched in horror, as nearby trees tilted and collapsed, as the ground beneath, honeycombed with tunnels, started to cave-in. In less than a minute, the damage was done; the warren had collapsed in a similar fashion to the San Jose mine in Chile; and Alan, Bigwig, Silver, Holly, and several others who hadn't made it out in time, had been entombed inside it.

They all felt their hearts sink; there was no further doubt that Alan's prediction of Sandleford's destruction had been correct. But although his efforts had saved a great many lives, it had come at the cost of his own - and those that had chosen to stand alongside him in their endeavour. Derek sank to his knees in horror…

**Author's note:** Chapter 7 is up! It took a lot of thinking to plan out the destruction of Sandleford. Originally, the savage humans of the future attacked, forcing Alan and Derek to use their advanced 21st century skills to improvise defence. In the end I decided to have it destroyed from McEwen's rescue chopper; it flew through the time warp just like the Cessna but the electrical interference caused the rotor to fail and a chopper can't glide in without power, like a plane. Enjoy and please review so I can update!


	8. Chapter 8 Mortal Peril and Escape

Struggling frantically, Alan managed to dig himself out of the fallen debris; although most of the burrow had caved-in, shrinking the tunnel to a tight squeeze, fortunately, it had still retained a small air pocket no higher than that of a coffin between the roof and floor, which would have otherwise meant his doom. Crawling out of the fallen earth on his knees, he looked around for his companions.

He could already see Bigwig digging himself out from under another pile of debris nearby, his brown fur so drenched in dirt, making him look like a terracotta rabbit, but otherwise unharmed; Holly also emerged beside him, sporting several nasty scratches on his face and another larger one on his shoulder. He didn't seem to be seriously injured, but his normally stern face now wore an expression of absolute horror.

"What in Frith's name just happened? Your warning was actually _true_?" he murmured in disbelief; although he had suspected that there might be something more to this strange human than what met the eye, hadn't expected for one moment, his warning of the seemingly impossible to turn out to be true. Alan nodded grimly as he fished his now battered flashlight out from under the debris and lit it. The current was weak, hardly brighter than a candle but enough to penetrate the darkness.

"Yes Holly, I am afraid it was true. Not that it will do us much good any more; we are trapped down here," he said, as they all turned to stare back at the collapsed entrance. Alan surveyed the blocked passage and shook his head, "Forget it, its no use. There must be several tons of earth and boulders pilled up there; it would take us a month to dig out through there." Then, he suddenly realised Silver and Pimpernel were still buried.

"Oh, my God. Come on, start digging! They can't breathe under there! Over there!" They quickly cleared away some of the fallen earth and soon Silver's head emerged from the dirt, choking and spluttering, gasping for air. Alan sighed with relief; they had dug him up in time. Soon they had cleared most of the debris off of him and Pimpernel and pulled them to an undamaged section of the run that still stood. Silver was unhurt; Pimpernel however, looked a right mess, with multiple cuts and bruises visible all over his body from where falling boulders had hit him, but was still alive.

"What do we do now?" Silver asked, a hint of fear in his voice as he realised they were not going anywhere anymore, "We're buried alive…!"

"We just have to find another way out," replied Bigwig, maintaining his cool despite the seriousness of their situation, as he calmly shook the dirt off his fur. Alan, taking charge of the situation, turned to his four remaining companions.

"First, let's look around for any other survivors. There may be others also trapped down here. And we can look for another way out while we are at it," he said and led the way back down the tunnel into the semi-collapsed warren. After finding a section that was still accessible – ironically, their holding burrow from where they had been trying to escape – and making the injured Pimpernel as comfortable as possible, they split up and began their search.

With great energy, they searched what was left of the semi-collapsed warren, every burrow and run that had escaped destruction. Close to the holding burrow, they found Toadflax lying unconscious amidst a pile of debris, his head battered and bloody. Alan put his hand to the buck's throat to check his pulse; the corrupt Owsla scout was still alive but seemed to have suffered a nasty concussion, judging by the heavy bruising on his head. Despite that, his pulse felt strong and his breathing normal. Beside him lay two less fortunate rabbits.

"Oh Frith, it's Woodruff and Peerton…" Holly muttered miserably, staring at the dead bodies of two young trainee Owsla scouts which he had recently recruited himself for the Owsla. The sight of their bloodied and battered faces made the Owsla captain fight the urge to be sick, realising that his refusal to listen to this human when he had the chance had come at the price of these two youngsters, and who knew how many others, still unaccounted for…

"Help me…somebody help me…"

Turning, they saw Scabious lying half buried beside his friend, a heavy boulder lying across his chest, pining him to the ground; blood was gargling up from his mouth, indicating severe internal trauma, as he gasped for help. Pushing frantically, they managed to heave the boulder off of him, only to discover his ribcage had been crushed beyond treatment. The gargling of blood in his throat soon stopped and his eyes rolled back in death. Holly gave another miserable sigh as he mentally listed another of the fatalities. Suddenly, they were caught by surprise at the sound of a voice coming from down the passage.

"Hallo, anyone alive back there? Captain Holly, is that you?" Turning, Alan saw the rabbit he knew was called Bluebell – the Owsla rabbit he had observed on the meadow the other day giving some coltsfoot to Hazel - making his way towards them, looking relieved to see he wasn't alone. A high-spirited jokester, Bluebell was Holly's personal Owsla aid and close friend. The slender buck was slightly bruised and drenched in dirt from falling debris, but fortunately unharmed, much to Holly's relief at finding another survivor, and his closest friend nonetheless.

"Frith of Inle, you sure are a sight for sore eyes, Captain! If you were a doe, I'd nuzzle you senseless…" he chuckled in a comical manner that would have had them all clutching their sides with laughter, if the situation hadn't been so serious. At the sight of Alan, the buck stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"W…what is he doing here? What has this miserable ithe done?" he snarled, staring at the dead bodies of his fellow troupers lying on the burrow floor, "If he's harmed Violet, I'll…" But, for the first time, Holly came to Alan's defence.

"Leave him alone Bluebell! Violet is safe. Our friend here is not to blame; we are all in this together now." Although the jester buck seemed to regain his confidence somewhat from his mentor's reassurance, he still looked utterly frightened and confused, quickly dropping his humorous tone.

"Holly, what…what in Frith's name is going on here? I must have dozed off or something, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself about to be crushed to death by the collapsing burrow… What happened? Have we been attacked…?"

"I don't know what happened Bluebell, but I damn well intend to find out!" snapped Holly, as they turned their attention back to Toadflax, "Come on, help me move him to the safety burrow; when he comes to, he has got a lot of explaining to do!"

Leaving the dead, who were beyond help, they carried the unconscious Toadflax down to the undamaged burrow and laid him down on some straw bedding, beside Pimpernel and the Threarah, whom Bigwig and Silver had managed to dig out of his collapsed burrow nearby. Although still breathing and conscious, the Chief Rabbit of Sandleford was horribly battered and bloodied, his condition critical.

Using the Cessna's small first aid kit, which he had in his vest pocket, Alan started tending to the injured. Obviously, he couldn't do much, other that clean out the wounds with disinfectant and apply some bandages and compressors to stop the bleeding, whilst the Threarah, Toadflax and Pimpernel obviously needed much more than that.

_Well, at least one measly first aid kit is better than nothing_, he thought grimly, as he applied a compressor to Toadflax's head wound, sighing as he realised the buck had suffered brain trauma, judging by his rapidly rising temperature, and would probably not recover. Pimpernel on the other hand, although badly battered and unconscious, wasn't so severely injured and seemed to have a better chance of recovery.

After Toadflax and Pimpernel were patched up, Alan turned his attention to the Threarah who kept his eyes fixed intently on him. He could see severe bruising on the elderly buck's side, indicating broken ribs and possibly a punctured lung that was filling up with blood, judging by the buck's laboured breathing, as well as the bleeding coming from his mouth. Hastily, he applied his last tourniquet around the elderly rabbit's chest, to secure the damaged rib, despite knowing that the elderly Chief Rabbit was undoubtedly beyond hope of recovery.

"How are you feeling now Threarah?" He knew from past experience that the old rabbit only had a few more minutes to live, the internal bleeding slowly drowning him in his own blood, so he knelt down beside him so he wouldn't be alone when he died.

"How do you _suppose_ I feel, ithe?" snapped the Threarah with all his remaining strength, as blood continued to leak from his mouth, chocking him, "My warren is in ruins and hrair of my people have been sent to their deaths; and I just sat there mocking your warning and ordered you arrested. I've failed my people; I don't deserve to bear the title of Chief Rabbit anymore."

"Take it easy old chap; you're going to be all right," Alan replied hastily, trying to calm the old rabbit, although he knew it was no good. Sure enough, the Chief Rabbit of Sandleford retorted sternly, "Don't you try and reassure me with false hope ithe! You think I don't know the Black Rabbit of Inle is coming for me? I am about to die swallowing the bitter fruits of failure…"

"There is nothing you could have done to prevent this; it happened much sooner than I expected. Besides, we managed to evacuate most of the warren in time," Alan said, explaining how they had resorted to put the entire warren to sleep, in a desperate attempt to evacuate everyone before it was too late, which meant the majority of his people were safely out of danger rather than entombed in the collapsed warren as the Threarah had assumed. He half-expected the old rabbit to start accusing him of all the deaths – which were technically his fault – but instead he saw him looking back at him with an expression of newfound respect.

"It doesn't change the fact that I let my old prejudice endanger the lives of my people needlessly; however, you didn't let an old fool of a rabbit's mistake lead to a tragedy. If you hadn't done what you did, and simply run, then a great many innocents would have perished tonight. Why risk your life for us? You do realise I intended to have you killed. Why did you do it?" Although suspicious at the mention of an '_old_ prejudice' – could this strange rabbit know about talking humans? – Alan felt touched that the old Chief Rabbit had finally realised he meant no harm and was speaking openly to him.

"Because in life, I have found that there is a choice between two options: you either choose what is right or what is easy. Once you make your choice you have to live with the consequences, whatever they may be. Personally, I always choose what is right and gladly bear the burden of my choices," Alan replied to the Threarah, who seemed rather impressed by Alan's words. However, the man didn't notice a curious expression of hope that suddenly appeared in the aged rabbit's eyes.

"Well, in that case, I want you to make me an oath. Come closer and give me your hands," he commanded. Alan obeyed, wondering what the Threarah, who only hours ago had treated him as nothing short of an enemy, wanted him to swear an oath for. The dying rabbit reached out and took Alan's hands into his forepaws, pressing them over his heart. Despite being old - not to mention mortally injured - he still held an amazingly firm grip as he went on speaking.

"Stranger, I entrust the survivors of my warren to your care. I trust you to do everything within your power to protect them from the danger out there, so that they may start anew in peace and prosperity. Do I have your word on it?" Realising the responsibility that Bigwig had warned him about now rested on his shoulders, whether he liked it or not, Alan took a deep breath, before answering with fierce determination.

"I swear I will do everything possible to protect your people and help them make a fresh start. You have my word." The Threarah shot Alan a look of gratitude as he breathed his last breath.

"Thank you. Bare in mind, I still distrust humans and I don't approve of my kind intermingling with yours, but I respect your courage. Now go. A long and perilous task lies ahead of you. Frith be with you!" As he lay back down, he breathing slowed and finally died out altogether, his lifeless eyes staring vacantly at nothing. The man loosened his grip from the Threarah's death grasp and, reaching out, gently closed the dead rabbit's eyelids with his hand. Turning, he saw his three companions staring at him from the burrow entrance with a sense of awe. Even Bluebell seemed mighty touched.

"I am sorry about your uncle, lad," Alan said, placing a comforting hand on Silver's shoulder. Although he realised the young rabbit obviously had had many family issues with his uncle, the Threarah had still been his last living relative, and now any hope of reconciliation between the two of them had been shattered.

"It isn't about my uncle, Alan," replied the large buck softly, "It is about the oath you just made him. You do realise, when you make such an oath to a Chief Rabbit, you are obliged by your word of honour to fulfil it, or die in the attempt. Going back on an oath like that means branding yourself with appalling dishonour. Are you sure you are willing to do this?" To his utmost surprise, Alan only chuckled confidently.

"Silver, it wouldn't have made a difference even if I hadn't made that oath. Like Bigwig said, since I know your future, I have a responsibility for you."

"You truly have the heart of a rabbit, ithe," Holly observed, a faint smile crossing his stern face, as he stared at Alan with renewed respect. This human undoubtedly was nothing of what had first met his eye, "I apologise I let my prejudice prevent me from seeing that earlier."

"Thank you Holly, although it's not the right time for apologies; better save them for Hazel and Fiver, if we ever make it out of this. Currently, we should focus on more pressing matters, namely getting out of this death trap," Alan replied absentmindedly, his mind working furiously on a possible way of escape. At that moment Bigwig, who can gone looking for more survivors, came running into the burrow, looking shell shocked. They turned to look at him, "Did you find anyone else alive back there?"

"No, most of the warren is completely caved in at that end; anyone back there is dead, buried under there," the mighty veteran replied grimly, "But there is something else back there you have to see…"

They followed Bigwig down the run, into another chamber. Most of the interior was taken up by a huge metal object that had come crashing down through the collapsed roof; upon closer inspection, Alan realised it was the wreckage of the chopper that had crashed straight into the warren, causing the devastation that had trapped them underground.

The Royal Air Force helicopter lay tilted onto its side, it's mangled the port side – which was missing its passenger door and most of the fuselage skin - facing downwards. The nose and windshield had been completely crushed from the head-in impact and the rotor blades had all been ripped clean off the axel from when it had struck trees in the crash. A massive bloodstain on the inside of the cracked windshield belonged to one of the pilots, who was dead, crushed by the imploding fuselage. A broken fuel line from a wrecked panel below the rotor was leaking fuel that was soaking into the burrow floor. Alan felt chilled to the bones.

"This is just great. Now, we don't only have to worry about suffocating or starving to death down here; there is also the possibility of being burned alive to consider!" If that fuel came into contact with any flame, like a spark from a live power cable amidst the wreckage, the whole place would instantly be swallowed up by a fireball. The other rabbits stared at each other with frightened expressions; fire was animals' greatest fear, even in this world.

At that moment, they heard a faint groan coming from inside the chopper; one of the pilots was still alive! They could hear the man's voice, weak and raspy from pain, speaking into his headset, "Mayday! Mayday! This is RAF-218 calling Greenham…Encountered some strange interference…Chopper down; I repeat chopper down…Please respond. Over…" Then the voice stopped, as the pilot sunk into unconsciousness. Alan turned to his companions.

"You wait here; I am going to climb onboard to see if I can help him…"

"You're climbing _inside_ that hrududu that just demolished our warren?" snapped Bigwig, holding him back, "Are you out of your mind? Get away from that thing!" The other rabbits were also looking wearily at the sight of the wrecked chopper; their ignorance of motor vehicles made them think the chopper was a _living_ creature that could 'attack' again if disturbed and the stranger inside was its master, like a hunter and his hound. The man pulled his elbow free from Bigwig's grasp.

"The chopper didn't _attack_ the warren Bigwig; it was just an accident. That man needs help!"

Carefully getting a sound footing on the mangled frame of the missing side door, he climbed inside the wrecked chopper. The cabin, although mostly intact, was a mess; most of the lockers had burst open, their contents forming a pile of junk all over the wall of the cabin, which had become the floor due to the tilt: parachutes, flashlights, stretchers, oxygen cylinders, medical supplies, and various pilot accessories lay scattered everywhere. At the sight of all that treasure, Alan was tempted to see if he could salvage anything that might be of use them, but he still had to help that man trapped in the cockpit.

Although the main power unit had gone out in the crash, the low-voltage auxiliary lights were still functioning on the chopper's emergency circuit, letting him get a good look at the interior. He could see the corpse of the winch operator lying suspended in the air, still strapped into his seat. The man's neck was twisted at an odd angle, indicating it had been broken by the shock of the impact. The seat beside him – the one meant for the air medic – was empty. He turned to look in the direction of the pilot seats.

The pilot on the left hand side was dead, sandwiched between his seat and the console, which had imploded on impact, crushing him. The pilot on the right hand side however - which had partially withstood the impact, sparing the man from being crushed – had been luckier. Blood was trickling down from his face, but his chest was still moving, indicating he was still breathing.

Shakily, Alan reached up and gently shook the pilot's shoulder. The man didn't respond. Picking up the mask from a nearby oxygen cylinder, he placed it over the man's mouth; after a few seconds, the high oxygen concentration took effect and the pilot finally came to.

The face that turned to face Alan made the man gasp in shock; the pilot's face was horribly slashed by glass splinters from the shattered gauges and windshield. A large splinter protruded from his skin, just below his left eye. It was hard to tell exactly how much damage had been done to the eyeball; the blood was masking everything. The man weakly felt around, probably blinded from all the blood coating his face.

"Smith? Stacy? Harrison? Is that you lads?"

"Take it easy, pal. Let me get you down from there," Alan said as he started unfastening the pilot's seatbelt and removed his helmet. The pilot, confused at hearing an unfamiliar voice, wiped some blood away from his uninjured eye, and saw Alan, "Who the hell are you? Where did you come from?" he panted, trying to support himself against the armrest.

"Sorry, my name is Dr Alan Johnson," Alan replied, as he helped the injured man to his feet. The pilot staggered a bit but didn't seem to have any broken bones or any other life threatening injuries. Sure enough, he replied calmly, "Major James McEwen, Royal Air Forces. I take it you are one of the passengers from the missing Cessna I've been searching for. Is there anyone else with you?"

"Yes, but it isn't the time to talk about it now; your chopper might explode at any moment. Hold onto me." Alan helped him climb out of the chopper, the man staggering, disorientated from his injuries. "Can you walk? I'll take you to the safety point. Let's see if we can find something for that eye…"

"Alan, what's going on in there? Do you need help?" came Bigwig's voice from outside the burrow.

"Who's there?" asked McEwen, trying to see in the dark while painfully holding a handkerchief over the splinter jabbed into his face.

"It's all right Major; friends of mine. Bigwig, help me with him! He's hurt." Bigwig and Silver helped McEwen along, as they led him back to the burrow where they had Pimpernel and Toadflax. Holly stayed behind with Alan, who had turned back to the wrecked chopper, looking for some first aid for Major McEwen.

Being a Royal Air Force chopper, equipped for search and rescue missions, the chopper was loaded with plenty of first aid supplies and equipment, among other useful treasures. Pocketing some bandages and antiseptic from the medic's kit, as well as a couple of flashlight he had found amidst the junk, to penetrate the darkness of the warren, he was about to rejoin his companions, when he noticed something.

What he had mistaken for the chopper's emergency lights glowing, were in fact the ribbons of the Aurora, visible through the window on the starboard cabin door, which was facing _upwards_ through the hole in the burrow ceiling from where the fuselage had come crashing down; he had found an escape route to the surface!

Overjoyed, he reached up and tried to pry the starboard door open. Unfortunately, the fuselage had been badly battered on that side, jamming the door shut. No matter how hard he tried, he only succeeded in opening it just enough for his hand to fit through, but nothing else. His first thought was to try and break the window with a stone but unfortunately the glass was bulletproof, as the chopper was an armoured military aircraft, designed to withstand enemy fire. Even the demolished windshield was a dead end as the entire nose of the chopper had imploded, completely sealing up that opening.

Not willing to give up so soon, he looked around for another opening – a hole in the fuselage or a collapsed section of the burrow – but there was nothing. With the exception of a few tiny holes, which would supply them with breathable air, there was no way out. At that moment Silver reappeared at the burrow entrance.

"Toadflax has regained consciousness. You better come at once. Bigwig and Holly are in quite a hot temper." They followed the silvery rabbit back to the makeshift infirmary where they saw a furious Holly yelling at an irritated Toadflax.

_That fellow's wound apparently wasn't as bad as I thought_, Alan thought, watching a slightly dazed but otherwise seemingly all right Toadflax being lectured by Holly for his fiasco earlier that evening. Alan couldn't suppress a triumphant smirk, watching the shoe on the other foot for a change.

"…So I suppose it's your favourite tactic of yours, dishing out tall-tales to your Chief Rabbit for a promotion? Just you wait, if we ever get out of this mess I will personally make sure you are court-martialled accordingly!" But Holly's temper didn't watch that of Bigwig's, who had all the more reason to hold a grudge against the corrupt scout, given how Toadflax had tried to have him axed from the Owsla.

"Yes, you think I don't know how many times you've tried this cowardly game of yours with outskirters?" snapped Bigwig furiously, backing Holly up, "Well, this time you've crossed the line. You're in trouble lad – and _big_ trouble at that!" Although hesitant – or perhaps too cowardly - to speak back to his Captain, who still outranked him, Toadflax didn't seem to have any qualms with picking an argument with his fellow officer of the same rank, and rounded on Bigwig.

"Just who do you think you are to judge me, Thlayli?" he snapped, "I was only doing my duty; _you_, on the other hand, were in league with those traitors! And don't try to deny it; these mysterious ithel are the reason we're stuck down here now – I heard Holly and Bluebell say so. If anything, _you_ are at fault, for not killing them in the first place…!"

"A situation that might have been avoided if you hadn't ruined our friend's chance of alerting the Threarah with your lies, you selfish, arrogant bastard!" Bigwig snarled pitilessly back at him, giving him a murderous look for his impudence.

"You actually side with that scum?" Toadflax spat, glaring daggers at Alan and McEwen, who had managed to remove the splinter from his face and was bandaging the cut with the professor's help, his good eye round as a coin, as he stared at the giant rabbits in amazement. "I knew you always tend to be a reckless hothead Thlayli, but you are actually a _disgrace_ to your species. No pride, no dignity, not to mention defending scumbag _ithel_ over your own fellow rabbits! What an appalling excuse for an Owsla officer you are…"

This was a big mistake. Before they knew what was happening, Bigwig had cuffed Toadflax hard over the head, knocking him back into unconsciousness, as he accidentally struck the rabbit's head wound. In his rage, he was just about to strike him a second time but Holly, Silver and Alan managed to restrain the enraged veteran, "Bigwig, don't! You'll kill him!"

"How dare that little insolent miscreant talk to me like that!" Bigwig hissed in a low, yet deadly voice, "Appalling excuse for an Owsla officer, am I? Why, I have a good mind to…"

"Bigwig, that's enough, now settle down! That's an order!" Holly boomed. Still respectful of Holly's captaincy, Bigwig calmed down somewhat and held his tongue, but continued to glare at Toadflax, who now lay on the floor, out cold.

"Found any way out back there, Captain?" Silver asked, trying to change the subject, before Bigwig's temper could flare up again.

"Yes, but don't get excited Silver. It's completely blocked by that…that dead hrududu. Unless some miracle of Frith can lift that thing out of the way, it's hopeless…" Alan however, listening to Holly's words, had suddenly come up with an idea. He turned to McEwen.

"Major, let me ask you something. Does your chopper have a winch to lower stretchers from?" McEwen nodded. "Yeah, we also used it for transporting military supplies on the home front during the war. Why?"

"Do you suppose it is possible to jump-start it, even if the chopper rotor is not running?"

"Well, I suppose we could manually reroute the feed, to draw some power from the emergency batteries – if they are still functioning that is. I wouldn't know; I am a pilot, not a mechanic. Besides, what the hell for? I can't possibly see any use for it…"

"That may just be the key to our escape from this living tomb," Alan said, rethinking his plan. It was too simple; if the winch – facing skywards - still worked, then maybe they could use it to winch the wreckage aside and clear the way out. They all turned to look at him.

"Care to enlighten us with what in Frith's name are you two on about? You've got us lost here," Bigwig said, exasperated at all the unfamiliar mechanical terms the men were using, all completely unheard of in Lapine vocabulary. Alan explained.

"Interesting idea Professor, but there is a minor flaw in your plan: to improvise and secure your hoist, you need someone from _outside_ to do it. It can't be done from down here," McEwen said. Alan's mind instantly turned to the rest of their companions safely above ground; but shouldn't they have left by now, thinking they were dead?

"We can't expect any help from the others," Holly said, "They wouldn't stick around for long after the warren was destroyed…" They all sighed, realising it was no use; they could expect nothing less that to be left to die down here from the tortures of hunger and thirst.

"Well, we might as well go back and gather whatever supplies we can find from the wreckage," Alan said, "Toadflax and Pimpernel will be a lot more comfortable on stretchers rather than like that…" Taking Holly, Bluebell and McEwen with him, they returned to the chopper and started unloading everything useful they could find.

After unloading the bodies of the two ill-fated crewmembers, wrapped in body bags, they unloaded a couple of the chopper's casualty transport stretchers, which McEwen carried back to the burrow for Toadflax and Pimpernel, along with the medical kit.

While Alan was busy unloading the rest of the chopper's undamaged kits, intent on sorting their contents out later, he suddenly noticed a small hole torn into the fuselage, facing outwards; although it was way too small for any of them to fit through, it might be good enough for something else... He turned to his companions.

"Go get McEwen and the others back up here on the double! I think I found a way out!" Holly and Bluebell, who were curiously examining all the peculiar accessories from the chopper kits, the likes of which they had never seen before, nor had the faintest clue as to what they were for, were instantly on their feet, hurrying back down to the burrow. Wasting no time, Alan got to work.

Hastily searching through the onboard kits, he found what he needed: a powerful flashlight, a roll of duct tape, a straight thin pole torn from the cabin monorail, and an aluminium survival blanket. Wrapping the shinny fabric around a broken headrest and taping it to the end of the pole, he improvised a reflector for a Morse lamp.

Raising the reflector out through the crack in the fuselage, with McEwen holding the pole erect like a flag, Alan pointed the flashlight through the hole so that the beam of light fell across the mirror-like surface of the blanket, which reflected it off at a horizontal angle, for anyone in the vicinity to see it.

Holding the flashlight steady, Alan started tapping the switch, causing the light to blink at different intervals, as he transmitted a message in Morse code: S-O-S/F-O-U-R/S-U-R-V-I-V-O-R-S/T-R-A-P-P-E-D. He repeated the message several times, each time pointing the lamp at different compass headings, so it could be seen from every direction.

"Where did you learn Morse Code so well?" asked McEwen, looking impressed at Alan's ingenuity, "Nobody uses it anymore, not even Royal Navy pilots."

"My father taught me when I was a kid; he also taught me how to construct this Morse lamp. He said in an emergency it could save your life." The pilot gave a small nod of approval, as they all kept his eyes focused on the Morse lamp, which also reflected the horizon; there was no sign of movement anywhere.

"They can't see us; either they are too far away or the trees and blocking the light from view," he said with a sigh of disappointment, "We're wasting out time…" But Alan was still not giving up, as he changed his plan.

"See if you can find a flare pistol or something else we can use to attract attention from afar." McEwen took a flare pistol and a handful of cartridges from a nearby locker and passed them to him. Ignoring the risk of starting a fire from all the leaking fuel coming from the chopper's engine, Alan took the pistol, loaded a cartridge into it, pointed it out through the crack and pulled the trigger. A bright red flare shot up into the air, through the trees, illuminating the night sky with a bright red star; the signal of distress.

Just as Alan was about to try the Morse lamp again, he was overjoyed as he heart excited voices coming running in their direction. They could hear the muttering and cheering of many familiar voices coming from above. Soon Alan heard Derek's voice calling him.

"Alan! Is that you? Holy cow, I thought you were dead! We were about to leave without you and then we saw your flare… Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I am fine Deke. Holly, Silver and Bigwig are with me too." He could hear more cheering outside as the rabbits rejoiced at the news that their friends were indeed still alive. Then came the hard part; getting them out of that death trap. "Deke, we need your help and we need it fast; this place might go up in flames at any moment."

"All right, what's the plan?"

"We have to try and raise this thing to unblock the exit; for that, we are going to use the winch to improvise a power-hoist for the job. I need instructions to manually reroute the power feed from the generator to the batteries. Can that be done?" Derek considered his friend's radical plan for a moment, trying to determine if there were any loopholes in the physics.

"Piece of cake mate," he finally said, giving his friend the thumbs-up. Alan turned to McEwen, "While Deke and I am sorting this out, you and the others start stripping this wreck to its bones; we must lighten this tin can as much as possible, so we can budge this dead horse." Unpacking the flight mechanic's toolkit McEwen had given him, Alan opened up the circuit panel that housed the power feed cables for the winch motor.

While Alan prepared the winch, following Derek's instructions, McEwen started removing everything that could be loosened: the chopper's remaining equipment, the seats, the flight instruments, and all other unnecessary components, leaving the cabin stripped bare, like that of a mothballed aircraft in a scrap yard. All that junk was passed down to the rabbits, who dragged it aside and out of the way. Meanwhile, the rabbits above ground were assigned the task of digging a fire-safety trench around the warren, in case the chopper – a dormant bomb waiting to blow at the first disturbance – went up in flames when they tried to move it.

"Damn, I am getting no juice out of Battery A; let's try Battery B," Alan said, removing the alligator clips of the ohmmeter he was using to check the power feed of one of the chopper's emergency batteries, which had been busted in the crash, and tried the secondary circuit. Finally, he got a reading of a stable alternating current, low but sufficient. He gave Derek the thumbs up.

"We're in business!" said the engineer excitedly above him, "Now take the extension cable and let's wire it up to the motor…"

The remainder of the task took a good several hours, during which time everybody worked restlessly, feeling weary and scared. What would they do if it didn't work? Would there be time for plan B? Finally, the last wire was in place; the winch motor had been rigged up to the chopper's reserve battery. Alan hesitated as he held his finger over the button that controlled the winch; a flip of that switch should cause the winch to start unwinding itself…or set the whole chopper ablaze, if there was a short-circuit anywhere in the system.

Taking a deep breath, he hit the switch; there was some faint sparking, followed by the sound of electrical humming. For an instant, Alan feared that Derek may have made a mistake and that the chopper would explode, but that wasn't to be the case.

"It's working! We're in business!" he heard Derek's voice calling from above and saw his friend walk across the window, carrying the hooked end of the steel tether. The engineer then started scurrying around until he found some components from the debris scattered around the crash site, improvising a crude block-and-tackle to feed the cable through; lifting a several-ton chopper with only a small battery-powered motor, obviously meant for much smaller loads, would require two triple-ringed grooves to compensate for the immense weight.

After several attempts, he finally finished the contraption; the hooked end of the tether, which was threaded through the lower pulley, was secured around the trunk of a 6-foot thick oak tree lying collapsed at a horizontal angle overhead, its top wedged against the surrounding treetops. The second sheave was fastened to the skid tube of the battered fuselage, securing the hoist in place, "Everything is set. Now all you have to do is reverse the motion and we'll see Leonardo DaVinci's physics of load-lifting in action…hopefully."

"It's now or never," Alan said, "But before I hit this switch, pass the word for everyone to move to a safe distance. You too, Deke!" Derek wished his friend luck and hurried away, calling to the others to also get clear of the crash site. Below ground, Alan's own party, including Toadflax and Pimpernel now on stretchers, stood huddled together outside the burrow entrance. The men had the chopper's fire extinguishers at hand, ready to be used at the first sign of a fire.

"All right, we are ready up here," Alan heard Derek's voice calling, "You can start the winch!" Turning the switch to reverse mode, Alan jumped from the chopper, just as the cable rolled itself back onto its axel, pulling against the hoist, stretching tight like a piano wire under the strain…

They waited in silence, hoping the small motor wouldn't seize up under the strain. Just as Alan thought that the fuselage was still too heavy to budge, it suddenly popped out of the hole and slowly rose three feet off the ground, suspended on the end of Derek's improvised block-and-tackle. The light of early dawn shone through the open hole on their dirty faces, as they stared up at the sky in relief; they were saved! Everyone, except Toadflax, whom, they found, had succumbed to his injuries while they had been working. Holly sighed grimly; the corrupt scout would not be getting his court-martial after all but was probably far better off this way, since he would have unquestionably been a ruined rabbit had he survived.

"All right, let's not hang about," Alan said, "That thing can't stay suspended up there for long. Let's go!"

Derek and the others helped them out through the hole. Pimpernel, who was still unconscious, was carried out on one of the chopper's stretchers, followed by Bigwig, Silver, Bluebell and Holly. McEwen paused for a moment to salvage two of the kits from the stuff they had unloaded from the chopper and passed them up.

As he climbed out of the hole as well, they heard a horrible snapping noise as the pulley, unable to withstand the heavy load any longer, gave way; the fuselage instantly came crashing back down into the pit, where it burst into flame.

They all turned and run away from the warren as fast as they could, the force of the explosion barely missing them. Once they were behind the safety line, on a nearby meadow, they turned and looked back at the warren; the warren had been completely annihilated, leaving a scene of deep trenches and burning vegetation. In the midst of the ruins lay the blown-up fuselage, still engulfed in flames, random explosions caused from oxygen cylinders onboard, scattering more chunks of the wreckage around.

Seeing the fire about to spread out of control, the men grabbed the fire extinguishers and circled the perimeter, spraying foam everywhere and keeping the fire contained beyond the trench. After what seemed like forever, the flames eventually began to die down, leaving a scene of total destruction. Sandleford warren was no more; but the majority of its former inhabitants were safe.

With the danger safely behind them, the group took a head count and assessed their situation. From the twenty-eight inhabitants of Sandleford, thirteen had perished, seven of which hadn't even been recovered. From the chopper crew, only McEwen had survived, although he noted that there had been a forth crewmember, who was still unaccounted for, apparently having been thrown from the chopper before the crash. Although it was highly unlikely that he had survived, they hoped to find him later. Despite having suffered severe facial injuries, the pilot was recovering well and fit to travel.

Aside from a few cuts and bruises, the remaining fifteen rabbits were unharmed, except for Pimpernel who was comatose, so the men agreed to take turns carrying him on the stretcher until he recovered. Alan, Derek and Robbins were unharmed.

Next, the four men examined their equipment. They had lost the first aid kit from the Cessna, having used up its contents to treat the injured below ground, along with Alan's flashlight, which had also been lost in the destruction. Robbins had returned to the Cessna and collected the rest of their equipment, including his bag containing their food rations, the plane's liferaft, the oxygen tanks, and the rest of their gear. Their losses however were quickly rendered moot, as they examined the two kits from McEwen's chopper.

The first was a mass survival kit issued by the Royal Air Forces, containing a complete survival arsenal, including group communication equipment, a variety of signalling and navigation gadgets, some light multipurpose tools and materials, safety equipment, simple means of providing shelter, food and warmth, complete with detailed reference manuals. Although it contained no weapons or food rations, it had all the bare essentials needed to brave the wilderness out there. The second kit was the _real_ silver tuna.

McEwen unzipped the cover, revealing the chopper's medical kit. The container was divided into different sections, each containing different accessories. There were plenty of disinfectants, a wide variety of sedatives and painkillers, sterile scalpels, scissors, tweezers and needles, and a digital pulse detector. Finally, there was a large supply of disposables, including safety gloves, syringes, pads, compressors, splints and bandages, complete with a manual on how to use all the equipment and to treat different injuries on site.

As they prepared for departure, the men were introduced to the newest additions to their group. As Alan had expected, they too were familiar to him from the book, nearly mirroring the description of the characters from the story. Aside from Bluebell, there were his twin cousins Speedwell and Buckthorn, who were scouts in the Owsla; Violet, the warren's healer doe and Silver's sister, was Bluebell's mate; Blackberry, a rather stern-faced buck with genuine black-tipped ears, was the Threarah's former advisor. Sharp minded, yet slightly conservative, he reminded Alan of a firm, no-nonsense bureaucrat. Finally, there was Acorn, a tall, lanky Owsla scout and close friend of Speedwell and Buckthorn's.

Although their native language was Lapine, they could all speak good English, a language 'handed down by their ancestors', according to Hazel, making communication between members of the group no problem. Although a few of them, including Violet, still had reservations about placing their trust in these 'strange talking humans', they finally agreed to go along without argument, after Holly and the others told them of the oath Alan had made to the Threarah.

After all injuries were patched up, the group settled down to plan their destination. Sandleford was completely destroyed and beyond hope of being rebuilt, so they had to leave as soon as possible before they attracted elil. Holly and his remaining Owsla suggested they head for Thinial, another warren close to Sandleford that had been abandoned long ago following a plague, in hopes of finding the ghost warren hospitable. However, Hazel and most of the other outskirters were against it, preferring to follow Alan's judgement. After consulting with Fiver, whom, he knew had the best judgement of all due to his sixth sense, Alan turned to the rest of the group.

"It's settled then. We are going to Watership Down!"

After a brief funeral ceremony for those who had perished, as well as erecting two crosses fashioned out of debris from the chopper, bearing the dog tags of McEwen's crewmembers, the group was ready for departure. As soon as the sun was up, the group of nineteen began their journey across an unfamiliar countryside, following a written destiny to its peak.

**Author's note:** The destruction of Sandleford has come and gone. Now, the real journey across the future world begins. Many surprises, challenges and adventure awaits the heroes. By the way, it isn't revealed, but Toadflax was accidentally killed by Bigwig, when he struck him over his injured head. Do enjoy and please take some time to update!


	9. Chapter 9 The Egg and the Crossing

It was late on the morning following Sandleford's destruction when the group of nineteen set off, heading southwards towards Watership Down. Alan led the way, followed by Hazel, Fiver, Pipkin, Holly, Bigwig, Silver, Bluebell, Violet, Speedwell, Buckthorn, Acorn, Blackberry, Dandelion and Hawkbit. McEwen and Derek followed close behind, carrying Pimpernel on his stretcher. Robbins picked up the rear, walking almost entirely on his own, as he paused every now and then to take pictures of the mysterious environment, using Alan's borrowed camera. Occasionally, he would also try his cell phone in case he could pick up a signal, but to no avail.

McEwen, although focused on his task with great energy, wore an expression of deep guilt; even though they had explained to their new friends that the destruction of Sandleford had been an inevitable accident and that McEwen wasn't to blame, the Royal Air Force pilot couldn't help but feel responsible for the deaths of the Sandlefordians as well as his crew, who had been friends of his.

Despite the loss of their home and the uncertainty of their future, the rabbits were very interested in learning more about this 'mysterious human world' from where their newfound friends had come from. As they walked along, Alan kept telling them about his life and world, with all the wonders of science and civilisation, which kept them wide-eyed with amazement. They had always believed humans to be nothing more than savage creatures with nothing except an endless desire to kill and destroy; but now, these four new humans leading them, contradicted everything they had ever seen or heard of them before in their lives.

Dandelion, who was the best acknowledged in the tales of El-ahrairah, which formed the basis of his people's history, was baffled by the fact that was not the slightest mention of intelligent humans being _real_, ever. Even Holly, Bigwig and Silver, who had seen the brutality of humans firsthand, had to agree that meeting 'civilised, intelligent humans' was a unique experience.

Alan soon realised that even the tales of rabbit mythology he had read about in the book also existed to some extent in this strange world, including some of the extended tales he had read about in a story called _The Cross Bearer_, which had been the crown jewel of _Watership Down_ fanfiction back in his world. However, it was clear by now that this wasn't a _mirrored_ reality of the story as he had assumed; although there were a great many _similarities_ such as names, places, and culture, this world seemed to be sort of… _inspired_ by the story in some way. It was like a dream; only, this was solid _reality_, rather than a product of his imagination.

As they walked along, he also took his time to observe the surrounding countryside more carefully. The landscape was endless, temperate woodland; tall trees, mostly deciduous, some as tall as 60ft and possibly hundreds of years old, with occasional meadows and clearings, could be seen everywhere. Although most of the surrounding flora was familiar native English vegetation, he also noticed many alien plants that were normally found in warmer climates; a change possibly due to the warmer climate of this world.

The pristine environment seemed endless, without the faintest trace of human impact visible anywhere; there were no buildings, no roads, no litter, no vehicles, no signs of farming, no effects of pollution, nothing. The entire English countryside had somehow been turned into an endless, wild paradise. All traces of human civilisation, minus them and their aircraft, had apparently just ceased to exist.

Thousands of questions kept going through his head as they walked along. What could have happened to the world? He could tell from the geography of the place and from the position of the stars at night, that they were still on Earth and in England, but the world had undergone changes beyond any scientific reasoning. And how was it possible that the characters from a _fictional_ story were _real_ here? One question after another continued to come and go through his mind unanswered, until a shout from Robbins brought him back to reality.

"Hey you lot, get over here! I found something." They run up to him and found him standing at the foot of a tall pine tree, staring up at, what appeared to be, a mess of white cloth and cords, tangled in the branches. The men instantly recognised it as the sail of a parachute. Hanging beneath it, suspended from the cords attached to its pack, was the unmoving body of a man dressed in a Royal Air Force uniform, similar to McEwen's. Alan could see that some of the cords of the parachute had been tangled around the fellow's neck when he had deployed it, strangling him to death in the descent.

"You know this unfortunate fellow?" Hazel asked, noticing McEwen's sad expression, who nodded, "This is Corporal John Harrison, the air medic from my chopper. He panicked and tried to bail out without orders when we lost control, the young fool. God rest his soul." He crossed his hands in respect for his fallen crewmember, "Come on, let's get him down and give him a decent burial."

They unfastened the straps and let Harrison's lifeless body fall to the ground, where they covered it with some leaves. After digging a shallow grave at the foot of the tree, they buried him and McEwen hang Harrison's dog tag from a twig, marking the final resting place of his last crewmember. The men then turned to salvage the parachute; although it was unlikely that they'd be using it again for its original purpose, all that silk and cord could still be of some use to them. But as they tried to pull it down, it wouldn't budge.

"We shouldn't leave it hanging up there; it could trap and kill birds and other animals," Alan said, "I will climb up there and see if I can free it. Robbins, come give me a hand, will you?" With some difficulty, they managed to climb up to the branch where the cords were snagged, where they found an interesting surprise.

"There is a giant bird nest up here," Alan said, staring at a large basket-shaped object that was supported between two strong branches, "And look at this…" he said, picking up a white splinter out of the nest. "Fragments of eggshell. Quite recent too…"

"Look, there's one not hatched yet," Robbins said, lifting up a large bird egg the size of a small melon. "Bloody hell, it's still warm!"

"Put it back!" Alan hissed at Robbins. "Come on, let's go before the mother comes back and catches us up here." He finished untangling the parachute and tossed it down, where it landed on top of Bigwig. Robbins hastily shoved the egg into his bag and followed Alan down from the tree, where McEwen was trying to untangle an irritated Bigwig from the parachute. Derek and the rest of the rabbits were sniggering at the sight.

"I must say, Biggie," Hawkbit sniggered, teasing Bigwig, "that thing looks rather nice on you. You look almost as stunning as a white doe…" The others also sniggered in amusement, while Bigwig glared.

"And _you_ will find it difficult to ever find a doe that would want you as her mate, if you don't shut your trap, Hawkbit!" he growled in a dangerous voice that silenced Hawkbit instantly. The men carefully folded up the sail and put it back into its backpack, which Derek took charge of. Then, they set off again, leaving Corporal Harrison's lonely grave behind them.

They continued their trek across the strange countryside for another hour until they came to the Enborne River, which, like everything else in this world, had changed; it had grown wider and deeper, with a larger volume of water, probably from the spring rain and melting snow coming from the mountains.

"Do we have to cross here?" Fiver asked Alan, looking rather uneasy, "I don't think I can swim through that; I am worn out. And what about Pipkin and Pimpernel?"

Alan realised that Fiver was right. Aside from the majority of the group, unaccustomed to walking long distances, being worn out, there was a furious current running in the centre of the river, making swimming across highly risky, even for him and his companions, who were obviously much better swimmers than the rabbits. Pimpernel was still unconscious and unable to swim at all; Pipkin, who had never been in open water in his life, was staring at the water, shuddering with fear at the prospect of having to swim. None of the others seemed too keen either. They were stuck.

"Watership Down is on the other side, about eleven miles…I mean about a day's journey from here," explained Alan, "If we are going there, we'll have to cross here…" Someone, however, had a different opinion; and it wasn't about braving the water.

"Frankly, I wouldn't recommend we try and cross here at all. That's the border of the Dark Territory." Alan and his three companions turned to look confused at Holly's remark, "Why? And what's this Dark Territory place? What's out there?" The rabbits all turned to look at them incredulously.

"Don't you know?" Seeing the blank look on the humans' face, Holly explained.

"Hrair seasons ago, a stranger from out there came to Sandleford, a 'messenger' requesting to see the Threarah. As it turned out, the stranger – the self-proclaimed master of the Dark Territory – was a spy who had come to infiltrate our warren. Although we drove him out, the stranger – who seemed to be the instrument of the Black Rabbit himself – cursed us in revenge; a plague of White Blindness fell upon our territory, wiping out hrair of our people, including all of Thinial. Some elder rabbits used to say that the stranger came from a dark warren out there, whose Owsla kill all outsiders to conceal their existence. There are stories of rabbits venturing out there and never coming back. Some say it's the domain of Black Rabbit of Inle himself, and all intruders are spirited away by these elil-rabbits, who are His minions..."

"Superstitions," muttered McEwen with a chuckle, "I doubt there is any more danger out there than there is flying a chopper sober…" But Alan, who had been piecing everything together with what he knew from the book, suddenly realised what these 'mysterious disappearances' had to be all about.

"Efrafa…" he muttered grimly. Holly and the others looked at him, "What was that you said?"

"This 'dark warren' you speak of must be Efrafa, the domain of General Woundwort," Alan explained, "They have Wide Patrols that venture great distances from the warren, causing all kinds of trouble, such as invading other warrens or capturing any hlessil they cross paths with; any prisoners are forcefully taken back to Efrafa as slaves, so that no one outside learns of its existence. Efrafa is said to have no allies or ambassadors; everything outside Efrafa is the enemy from Woundwort's point of view."

"Where did you learn all this information?" Holly asked, "Is it also part of our 'life's story' you know from your world, like the destruction of Sandleford?" Alan nodded.

"If I had to hazard a guess, that's the most reasonable explanation I can give you. The question is - assuming that Efrafa exists out there - does the risk of venturing into enemy territory outweigh the possibility of finding an ideal location to establish a new home?" if his assumption about Efrafa was correct, then it would mean a great danger for all of them and he didn't like the idea of taking unnecessary risks. The debate however was finalised by Bigwig.

"Well, we have nowhere else to go; there are no other warrens close to Sandleford, not since Thinial was wiped out during the White Blindness. And the territory up north is all mountains, unsuitable for building a warren," he said, "Although I agree, venturing through enemy territory is risky, only he who dares wins. I am with you all the way chum." He gave Alan a wink, who smiled back. Although still uncertain, the others finally agreed as well.

"Then it is settled," Hazel said, " We are heading on out there and hope for Frith's guidance and protection." He turned to look at the roaring, foreboding river, "But how do we cross here?"

"I hope you are not asking for volunteers," Hawkbit said, staring wide-eyed at the churning water and this time, nobody bothered chastising him. To everyone's surprise however, Alan looked perfectly calm, "No cause for panic chaps. I've got it all worked out…"

"And how exactly do you 'have it all worked out', oh leading genius?" Hawkbit sneered back at Alan irritably, "We dig a tree out of the ground and let it fall across, to make a bridge? You have hraka for brains if you think I will be spending the rest of my day digging trees up by their roots…" Ignoring Hawkbit's sarcasm, Alan turned to Derek.

"Deke, unpack the life raft; time to set sail!" But Derek, realising what his friend had in mind, looked anything but impressed by Alan's plan.

"What are you thinking, Al? You can't ferry anyone across through that current in a dingy. The river will swallow you up the instant you cast off…!" he said, tossing the raft to Alan, who caught it, "Not if we take certain precautions, its not. Major, the rope."

"I see where you are going with this, professor. Bold, but interesting idea," McEwen said, uncoiling the Cessna's glider tether from around his shoulders.

"What in Frith's name are you doing?" Holly asked, as they watched the men handle, what looked like to him, an insignificant yellow package, which was the Cessna's emergency life raft. Several of the rabbits jumped back in shock as the bundle suddenly dropped from Alan's hands and took shape. Soon, a yellow 4-person dinghy, lay inflated at their feet. For a moment none of them moved, stunned by this new phenomenon; then, Hazel cautiously stepped forward and nudged the side of the raft with his paw, probably thinking it was alive.

"Intriguing," he said, fascinated by the softness of the pneumatic raft, "But how can this…this giant sunflower get us across?" he asked as he mastered the courage to paw around inside, satisfied that it was harmless. Alan burst out laughing.

"It's not a _sunflower_ Hazel; it's a _dingy_. We use it to…to walk on water," he explained, watching with amusement at the stunned expressions that appeared on his friends' faces at those words.

"_Walk on_ _water_?"

Not bothering to explain, Alan began fashioning one end of the rope into a hangman's noose. Taking aim he threw it towards an old tree stamp on the opposite bank. After several unsuccessful attempts, the noose finally stuck fast around the stamp. Feeding the other end through two safety rings on either end of the raft, he secured it to a nearby tree, improvising a safety line. Then he pushed the raft along the rope like a cable car, and into the water, the strong rope preventing the current from carrying it away.

"It's ready. Now we can make our way across, four at a time. So, who is first?"

"Fine then, I will be first on the suicide ride," Hawkbit said sarcastically, but regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth, as Bigwig roughly pushed him into the dinghy beside Alan, followed by Bigwig and Silver. Before they could change their mind about being the first volunteers, Alan cast off and pulled them along the safety line, making towards the opposite bank.

The current turned out to be much stronger than it looked, the ice-cold water splashing over the side, soaking them all. Soon, Alan's dirt-drenched clothes had been thoroughly rinsed out in a cold bath. No sooner had they reached the other bank, than a soaked Hawkbit, Bigwig and Silver disembarked in a hurry, eager to get out of the water, as Alan made his way back for the next quartet of passengers. Half an hour later, only Robbins, Hazel, Fiver and Pipkin were waiting to catch the last ride. Robbins got in, while Hazel helped Alan drag a terrified Pipkin onboard. Fiver hesitated a little but then jumped into the raft, beside Alan and Hazel. Alan untied the end of the rope from the tree and started pulling them towards the opposite bank, towards their other waiting companions.

Suddenly, partway there, they noticed that Fiver had gone rigid, his eyes glassy and trembling violently; he was having another vision. Hazel turned to his brother, "What is the matter, Fiver? What do you see?"

"The water…it wants one of us!" Before anyone could unravel the riddle of Fiver's faraway words, they heard the others on the bank shouting in warning, "Look out! Nildel!"

Alan looked skywards and saw, with a gasp of fear, an enormous hawk the size of an ox with wings, swooping down on them, its razor-sharp, dagger-sized talons exposed, ready to strike. With nowhere to run when floating out in the middle of the river, they ducked in an attempt to avoid the creature's deadly talons; unfortunately, this move caused them to lose their balance. The raft flipped over, dumping them into the cold water before coming down over their heads upside-down.

Cold water struck Alan on every inch of his body, as he struggled to hold onto the safety line, to avoid being swallowed up by the current. Surfacing, he saw Hazel holding onto the line with his teeth, Fiver clinging onto his brother's shoulders for dear life. Robbins was also holding onto the rope with one hand, the grasping firmly his bag, as if it were his first-born child. The raft had broken loose from the line, drifting downstream with the current and quickly vanishing from sight. The hawk was gone.

"Everybody all right?" Alan said as he flopped the raft upright again and helped them back onboard. Holding onto the rope, the others howled them ashore, with McEwen preparing some space blankets from the chopper's survival kit to keep them warm.

"Well, it looks like there is no turning back now," Alan said, looking in the direction where the raft had drifted away, "We're heading into the Dark Territory now, whether we like it or not…" Then, suddenly they realised that Pipkin wasn't with them anymore, "Wait, where is Pipkin?"

Expressions of shock and horror appeared on everyone's faces as Alan uttered those words, as they all turned to stare back at the churning water; Pipkin had obviously been unable to grab hold of the rope in time when the raft had flipped over and had been swallowed up by the current. Hazel and the other rabbits lowered their heads in silent prayer.

"Oh Frith, my heart has joined the Thousand. My friend stopped running today." But Alan, who had grown very fond of that rabbit, was not giving up so easily. Quickly removing his heavy vest and glasses, he tied the rope around his waist. Grabbing one of the unused oxygen tanks they had salvaged from the Cessna, he slapped the mask on and turned on the supply, improvising an aqualung. Then, without a word, he positioned himself to take the plunge. Silver noticed him.

"What are you doing there…? ALAN, NO!" they all shouted in unison, as Alan suddenly dove headfirst into the river, in pursuit of Pipkin. He instantly felt the furious current grab hold of him and drag him downstream. Before his head went under, he heard the shouts of his companions, "Alan, come back! You'll never make it!" Then the roar of the water and the sound of the bubbles coming from his mouth filled his ears.

He let the current drag him, hoping it would take him in the same direction it had taken Pipkin. Suddenly, he felt a tug on his waist and realised he had reached the end of the safety line and his companions were trying to haul him back in. Without hesitation, he drew his knife and cut the rope, letting the current guide him towards Pipkin.

After a few seconds of frantic underwater searching, he spotted Pipkin. The current had washed the dwarf rabbit into a patch of thick freshwater kelp on the riverbed; these had snagged him in an entanglement, holding him trapped underwater, drowning him. Anchoring himself on the bottom with his feet, he quickly removed his air mask and pressed it over Pipkin's face, giving him air. Just before his air supply run out, he grabbed hold of Pipkin with one arm, cut the dwarf rabbit free from his entanglement and shot to the surface.

Keeping Pipkin's head above water, he kept swimming with all his might until he finally managed to break free of the current and reach shallow water. Half-dragging himself up onto the pebbled bank, he collapsed on the mossy pebbles, his limbs aching in exhaustion, Pipkin at his side.

After a few minutes of panting, he felt some strength return to his limbs and he was able to get to his feet. Turning to Pipkin, he was overjoyed to see he was still breathing. Carefully removing the useless oxygen mask from the rabbit's face and untangling the severed strands of kelp still tangled around his small body, he turned the poor creature over, checking him for injuries; the dwarf rabbit was all right but unconscious from shock.

After a few minutes of frantically rubbing the dwarf rabbit's limbs, Pipkin come to, coughing up a large amount of water he had swallowed. His frightened eyes looked around in confusion, before noticing Alan crouching above him, "You came into the water after me…" he muttered in a low voice. The man nodded with a smile, stroking the rabbit's head in reassurance.

"You all right, lad?"

Pipkin nuzzled close to Alan's body like a frightened kitten, burying his head into the man's chest, still trembling from shock of what had nearly happened to him. He slowly looked up at Alan with wide eyes as his saviour gently cuddled him, trying to calm him down, "It's all right lad; it's over."

"Thank you, thank you," the dwarf rabbit muttered in gratitude, "But why did you do it? Why risk your life for me? I wasn't worth it…" Alan was stunned at these words; why did Pipkin feel so_ inferior_?

"Don't talk like that Pipkin! Of course you were worth it! I promised I would look after you; _all_ of you for that matter. Had anyone else been in your place, I would have done exactly the same thing. How could you say something like that?"

"It's my entire fault that your life was put in danger," Pipkin cried in shame and self-hatred, "If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't have had to put yourself in danger. Toadflax and the others were right; I can never hope to account for anything but being a burden to others! Oh Alan, I am so sorry…" he said, breaking into anguished sobs.

Realising the small buck had most likely spent a lifetime being bullied and tormented by stronger rabbits – including those two wretches Toadflax and Scabious -, Alan gently picked up the rabbit like a toddler, cradling the anguished Pipkin against him. He stroked his little friend's head reassuringly, remembering how just as bad he had felt, following the deaths of his wife and daughter; only then he had been on his own, as everyone had turned their backs on him, except for Derek. He wasn't going to let Pipkin, who had lost his self-esteem, up to the point of feeling inferior and insignificant to those around him, trouble himself from such bad influence any further.

"Hush lad, it wasn't your fault. It was my choice to come in after you. I couldn't have lived with myself if I didn't try and help you. Whatever those…those miserable, arrogant scumbags have been telling you, they were talking rubbish!" he said firmly, pleased to see that Pipkin had calmed down somewhat, probably from the man's loving affection towards him - an affection he hadn't experienced in a long time. Yet, he still felt troubled from his conflicting emotions.

"But that doesn't stop me from being a burden to you and the others. I am neither a fighter like Bigwig, or even an intelligent buck like Blackberry…"

"But you care about the well-being of your friends, much more than your own. Let me give you a piece of advice that I learned when I was your age: in life there is the choice of what is right and what is easy. Your fierce loyalty to your friends proves that you have made a wise choice, that of what is _right_. Toadflax and Scabious chose to base their virtue on what was _easy_ and in the end it caught up with them and they died in disgrace. Someday, your golden heart will make you a hero, in a way that no kind of bravery, strength, or intelligence can. Remember that."

Pipkin smiled at his friend's kind words and nuzzled deeper into his embrace. Suddenly, Alan realised it was nearly sunset; night was approaching and soon it would be too dark for travelling. He examined what he had left of his equipment and found only his knife and matches remained in his pockets; his vest, which held all his other gadgets, was back there somewhere, in the possession of his companions.

"So what do we do now Alan? How do we find the others?" The man looked back upstream; the current had carried them at least a mile down the river and with nightfall creeping in, it would be pointless to attempt to retrace their steps.

"There isn't much we can do now. I suggest we find some shelter for the night. At daybreak, when it's safe, we will look for the others." Pipkin looked scared at the prospect of sleeping out in the open. This didn't surprise Alan in the least; after seeing that giant hawk back there, it went without saying, that nighttime was very dangerous out here.

"Shelter? Where? There is no burrow round here and I don't think we can dig a scrape in time. Oh Alan, I am scared…"

"It's alright laddie. I got it all worked out. Come, help me gather some wood." Alan said calmly, as he turned and started gathering any dry branches and twigs that were lying around. Pipkin helped him and they soon had a roaring campfire going. The warmth of the fire was a great relief for Alan, who had been shivering in his wet clothes.

Pipkin went aside to silflay, while Alan found some berries and almonds for his own supper. As soon as night fell, they curled up on the grass beside the fire to sleep. Pipkin was a bit weary of sleeping so close to a fire, but Alan finally managed to convince him that there was no danger and the dwarf buck snuggled up beside him and went to sleep.

Alan lay awake for hours, thinking of his adventures over the past few days, and wondering, what fate had in store for him. Would he ever return home? Or was this mysterious world to be his home from now on?

True, he didn't really have anything waiting for him back home. With his family gone, he would simply be returning to solitude. In this new world, on the other hand, he had found new friends who which he was quickly building a strong connection. But if he and his companions were to be stranded here forever, would they be able to adjust to this new world and start life over? He thought of McEwen and Robbins who hadn't signed up for this; he knew McEwen had a family back home and Robbins who, despite being an arrogant arse, had no business here. No, he had to find a way to get them back!

In spite of his thoughts, Alan felt exhausted and finally drifted off to sleep. Pipkin, without realising it, in his sleep, nuzzled closer to Alan, resting his head on his arm, as the man held him close like a teddy bear. The Aurora Borealis continued to shine brightly in the night sky, as it had for nearly a week…

Meanwhile, the rest of the group, led by Derek and McEwen, were running along the riverbank, searching frantically for their two missing companions, but finding nothing. Alan and Pipkin were gone, apparently having been swallowed up by the current and drowned. Derek fell to his knees, clutching his hair in despair.

"Why the hell did I do it? Why did I persuade Alan to come on this accursed journey? All my life, he has been like a brother to me…"

"Come on let's keep looking," McEwen said encouragingly, "There is still a chance he may have made it to shore further down…" Behind them, Robbins, who had been fussing over his water-drenched journal that had ink running from its soaked pages, sighed in exasperation.

"Oh, wake up! He would have to be the best swimmer in the world to make it this far. I am telling you, he's drowned. Both of them are probably fish food by now. What, should we get a fishing rod and try and catch the fish that ate them?" he asked with a rather sarcastic tone, almost as if he found the situation amusing. Derek and the others gave him a reproachful glare. They continued the search for a while longer but didn't find anything. Further down, thick trees grew along the riverbank, making it impossible to continue walking any further. They all stared at the water with painful expressions.

"Well, I guess we have to accept facts," Hazel said lamely, "Alan and Pipkin have been taken by the Black Rabbit of Inle." They all lowered their heads mournfully, except for Robbins who was too busy eating berries from the bushes, looking completely unconcerned.

"That ithe was the bravest fellow I have ever met, even though he was a human. How I wish we could have gotten to know him better," Holly said, lowering his head sadly. Bigwig nodded grimly, his strict face having softened somewhat in sadness at the tragedy.

"He risked so much for us and yet, we can't do anything to repay him now," Fiver muttered tearfully as he stared at the water that had become the grave of his childhood friend and that of his saviour.

After a short funeral speech that seemed to last hours, a group of grief stricken men and rabbits set off into the woods. Robbins, however, paused for a moment and stared back at the river that had claimed the life of his two companions. Making sure he was out of earshot, he sneered down at the water, his eyes glowing with hate.

"Well, good riddance to you Johnson. What a fool, to throw your life away for a mere runt rabbit! Oh well, maybe now you can reunite with your dear family in hell!" He spat at the water in spiteful satisfaction before turning and following the others away.

With nightfall approaching, they found a safe spot under some trees to camp for the night. Using his lighter, McEwen lit a campfire to keep predators away; the rabbits were at first weary of been so close to a fire but eventually complied, when the men explained that it was the only thing that would keep predators away while they slept. The group drifted off to sleep in small groups, while Bigwig, Silver, Holly and McEwen took turns standing watch.

As Silver took the first watch, fighting the urge to doze off, he noticed the beautiful Aurora Borealis, which shone brightly in the sky above their heads.

"I wonder why Prince Rainbow continues to smile after what happened," he muttered in a sad voice, completely unaware that Alan and Pipkin were in fact safe and sound, enjoying their own peaceful slumber only a mile away from their camp!

**Author's note:** Another chapter is up! Thank you RogueFanKC for your wonderful reviews. Anybody else who reads my story, please review! By the way, the Cross Bearer is another WD fanfic written by RogueFanKC. It provided the inspiration for my story. Until next time then! Cheerio!


	10. Chapter 10 Enemy Abound

Alan stretched and yawned, the wonderful scent of spring odours filling his nostrils. The first thing he noticed was that his fire had gone out during the night, but luckily, no elil had come close. After getting himself a drink of water from the river and some blackberries for breakfast, he sat down to figure out the best course of action. Thinking it would be best to continue on to their original destination instead of searching in circles through unfamiliar territory for their companions, he decided to press on with Pipkin and hopefully rendezvous with the others at their new home. He turned and gently shook the dwarf rabbit awake.

"Come on lad. We have to get moving." They set off, heading southwards towards Watership Down.

As they walked along, Alan entertained Pipkin with more stories about his world and life, his little friend continuously pestering him with unending questions about the 'magical human world'. Despite the young rabbit's endless and rather irritating curiosity, Alan was beginning to grow very fond of him, feeling a growing fatherly affection towards him, as Pipkin reminded him of his late daughter Lucy.

"So your kind tells stories…in the form of moving and talking shapes?" Pipkin asked as Alan told him about when he had first seen the story of _Watership Down_ on video as a child and loved it.

"Yes, and I might add, they came pretty close to portraying your real-life appearances and personalities - yours and your friends. Too bad they didn't include you all though; the descriptions of Acorn, Speedwell, Bluebell, Buckthorn and some of the others only exist in _written form_, in the books," he said, recalling the original 1978 feature film, as well as the upcoming 2015 remake.

"Books? What in Frith's name are those?" asked Pipkin curiously, having developed an equally great fondness for his human friend. Although slightly flushed from Pipkin's eternal childish curiosity, Alan patiently explained.

"Well, in my world, history isn't handed down to future generations just by memory and told stories, the way Dandelion does with the tales of El-ahrairah. For centuries, I mean hrair cycles of seasons," he said, using the correct Lapine prefix, "we preserve our history and knowledge in the form of _writing_. That is done by drawing…ahem, symbols, called letters, that form words," he explained, trying to give his dwarf friend the simplest definition of writing. To explain better, Alan bent down and started drawing in the loose dirt with his finger.

"For example, if I were to draw this…" he said, drawing a simple outline of a rabbit, "Now, what do you see?"

"I see a rabbit," Pipkin said, looking slightly confused, yet on fire with excitement. Alan smiled.

"Good. Now if I were to put it in this form…" he said as he wrote on the ground beside the outline the word, 'RABBIT'.

"Now then, if you were to ask me what this means, I would read it out to you as '_rabbit_'. Basically, reading and writing is just spoken words in the form of symbols, so to speak. If you know each of the symbols - or letters of the alphabet as we call them - you can record everything in written form. Letters form a word; words, a sentence; a group of sentences, a paragraph; a number of paragraphs, a chapter; and finally a number of chapters form the entire text of a book. That's how your life story originally came to be back in my world." Pipkin looked fascinated.

"Your world sounds absolutely fascinating, like the unknown wonders of Frith. How I wish He had blessed us with the skill of writing. It would be so wonderful to preserve all the tales of El-ahrairah in writing, for our descendants to read it," he said looking slightly hurt at his kind's lack of skills, compared to his human friend's.

Inspired from Pipkin's words, Alan suddenly had a great realisation: his skills and knowledge completely surpassed those of the inhabitants of this world. Apparently, in spite of their human-level intelligence, the only skills these giant rabbits mastered were digging, fighting, and caring for their young, while their rudimentary knowledge only consisted of hazy folklore mythology, some basic knowledge of plants, and some crude timekeeping. He, on the other hand, had a far better educated mind, filled with academic knowledge of reading, writing, sciences, and lots more. While back in his world, he was just an every-day college professor and could always find people better than him anywhere, here he was unique and could use it to his advantage.

"Actually, I think I can help you make your wish come true, Pipkin," he said, remembering how scientists had successfully managed to teach apes to communicate using sign language, due to their near-human-level intelligence; if these giant talking rabbits had _complete _human-level intelligence but only lacked his level of _education_, like people from the Middle Ages, then maybe they could be taught and educated, bringing the heart of human civilisation into this world. The prospects were just…_colossal_!

"Writing isn't so much a godly blessing, lad, but an _invention_ of man, that can be passed on to others. If it's really your heart's desire to learn, I am sure I can teach you the things I know: reading, writing, our world's history, science, everything. Perhaps when we get to Watership Down, we could…"

"HALT!"

Suddenly, the conversation was interrupted by three growling rabbits that sprang from the bushes, surrounding them in an ambush. These rabbits were burly and looked extremely mean and ugly, with menacing expressions on their faces, as they kept staring at him, ignoring Pipkin, the presence of a talking human apparently having caught their interest. Alan didn't fail to notice that each rabbit was branded with a familiar three-notch claw scar, on different parts of their bodies, like crude military decorations; an identification Mark. With cold dread, Alan realised they had to be Efrafan scouts; it seemed his assumption of the infamous warren had been correct.

"Well, well, what have we got here then?" sneered a rather skinny, blackish rabbit with pointed ears and evil eyes, who seemed to be the leader of the patrol, "A _talking_ human and his pet?"

"What do you ugly goons want?" asked Alan, frowning, clutching the hilt of his knife tucked in its holster with one hand, while keeping the other protectively around Pipkin's shoulder, expecting things to turn ugly at any minute. He was beginning to dislike this mean-looking rabbit's sadistic tone. The other rabbits, although menacing, seemed on edge with surprise of Alan's speaking abilities.

"What in Frith's name is this human? How can he speak? What kind of tribe does he come from? Captain Vervain?" asked one of them, staring at Alan as if he were an animal in a zoo. This one, in contrast to his sadistic captain's weakly physique, was extremely thickset, the size of Bigwig, only with a savage-like demeanour, as he firmly stood his position, waiting for further orders.

"I don't know Mallow, but we are going to find out regardless. I think General Woundwort will grant us leniency for our failure in tracking down our escaped does, if we present him with such an interesting asset. You two…" he sneered at Alan and Pipkin with an air of sickening arrogance, "By the authority invested in me by the mighty General Woundwort of Efrafa, you are henceforth my prisoners and property of my master. You can either come along quietly, or be killed on sight…"

"And what makes you think that we will go quietly?" Alan retorted venomously, "My friend and I are nobody's 'property'!" Vervain who seemed to take offence at been spoken back to by a human in such a bold manner.

"Don't be a fool, you pitiful creature. We outnumber you and we are trained warriors. You jest if you think you stand a chance against us," Vervain sneered arrogantly, "Now come along before we decide to use force. And don't you dare open your filthy mouth on me again without permission, or you'll suffer the consequences…!" To his utmost surprise – and outrage – the human only rolled his eyes.

"Then perhaps you are deaf, as well as dumb?" replied Alan coolly, drawing his knife, "I said, we are not taking orders from riff-raff like you or your gang of hooligans…Captain Vervain, is it? Are you sure it isn't more like 'Captain _Vermin_'?" he asked, mocking Vervain, wondering how long it would take before the mean rabbit's short temper reached breaking point. Sure enough, Vervain narrowed his eyes to slits, looking as if about to strike at Alan for the insult but then his eyes fell on Pipkin, who was huddling close to Alan, trembling with fear. His sadist face curled into a chilling sneer.

"Tut, tut. That shows a sad lack of respect to your superiors, ithe. I believe a lesson in manners will do you some good. Let's see if we can get the message across, while we torture your little friend in repercussion. Avens, Mallow, bring that midget over here!" he sneered, gesturing at Pipkin, who flinched in terror. But, in an instant, Alan had stepped in front of his small friend, blocking the way for the two advancing rabbits, knife in hand.

"Just touch him and I'll slit both your gullets open!" he growled softly, pointing the gleaming blade of his knife at each of the three threatening rabbits in turn, "Now get moving!" Vervain appeared to finally lose his temper at failing to scare his prisoner into submission.

"That does it! Kill the human and the dwarf too, and let's be done with them!" he bellowed at his two henchmen, who attacked in earnest. As Mallow sprang at him, Alan flashed the blade across the evil rabbit's face, opening a deep cut all the way from his forehead to his nose tip. The other rabbit, Avens pounced onto Alan's shoulders, trying to pin him down with his weight, only to receive a painful elbowing in the ribs, causing him to crumple to the ground, groaning with pain.

"I've dealt with plenty of dirty scum like you lot," Alan growled in warning as he continued to fight, grabbing Avens by the forepaw and twisting it tight, almost breaking the bone, "be gone or you'll be killed!" Although he had been out of touch with his martial arts classes for a while, it hadn't been, by any means, long enough to turn him too rusty either. Soon, the two Efrafan soldiers, bruised, battered and utterly terrified by Alan's fighting skills, turned around and fled. Vervain called after them, "Come back you miserable cowards! You're Owsla…!"

Finding himself alone, he was about to bolt as well, but Alan grabbed hold of Vervain's ears, lifting him off the ground, and turning him round to face him, "Not so fast my friend. I am not done with _you_ yet." Vervain, now utterly terrified, tried to cuff Alan across the face, but the man held him at arm's length so the evil rabbit couldn't reach, all the while tightening his grip on him, until Vervain was gasping for breath from the pain.

"I can rip them out by their roots you know. Now shut up and hold still!" Alan said icily, as Vervain moaned in pain from Alan's pincer-like grip, his eyes wide and fearful, begging for mercy, thinking the human was about to kill him. He obviously wasn't a trained warrior at all, only a cowardly racist who liked to bully others with his high-ranking status – one that meant nothing to Alan.

"Now, you listen here and listen good," the man said, his voice calm yet icy, "I don't make a habit of sympathising with scumbags like you. Therefore, I am giving you a fair warning that I suggest to take very seriously: you stay away from me and my friends. If we ever meet again, I will personally make sure you wish you had never crossed paths with me! Is that clear?" Vervain uttered a painful groan, which Alan more-or-less interpreted as a 'yes'.

"Smashing. Now, when I let go of you, you are to turn around and get out of here, without another word. You can _feel_ as vengeful as you like towards me; to _act_ vengeful in any way would be a terrible mistake. What I just did to your whiskers, I can just as easily do to your testicles…or worse…" he hissed, brandishing his knife, which was stained with Mallow's blood, causing Vervain to shudder at the thought, "Oh, and one more thing: Don't dare try and follow us if you know what's good for you. Now, get lost."

Without another word, he let Vervain drop to the ground, non-too-gently, who scrambled to his feet and turned to flee, but not before casting one last look of pure hatred towards Alan.

"This isn't over, stranger. Mark my words; you shall feel the wrath of General Woundwort himself for this insolence! You can't run from him and you can't fight him. I will have the last laugh! I swear it!" he spat, before bolting. Alan put the knife back into its holster and turned to Pipkin. "Are you alright, lad?" he asked gently as he knelt to tend to his trembling friend.

"I think so," the dwarf rabbit muttered, still shaking from Vervain's attempted assault on him, as well as Alan's kung-fu display with the Efrafans, "Who were they?"

"An Efrafan Wide Patrol; it looks like Efrafa does exist here after all. That ugly goon, Vervain is the Head of Owslafa. He's got a most charming reputation of administering the most brutal of punishments imaginable, aside from all the executions and tortures he authorises on his Chief's command. Definitely not the kind of rabbit you want to get to know…" Alan explained, remembering the description of Vervain in the story. Pipkin looked appalled.

"But how does he have such a high position, if he abuses it like that? If an Owsla officer back at Sandleford ever engaged in such brutally unprovoked, he would be facing exile at the very least. Not even the Threarah would tolerate such cruelty!" Although doubtful that the Threarah had ever taken any bullying accusations towards his Owsla officers seriously, judging from how Toadflax and Scabious had made a sport of bullying outskirters, Alan explained.

"In a corrupt, fascist state ruled by a ruthless, murderous dictator, you can't expect moral restrictions to mean much. As far as Woundwort is concerned, power is everything and anything that questions his authority in the slightest, is a threat that must be eliminated. He crushes the will for rebellion in all his subjects, with his brutal punishments and strict laws. Vervain and the Owsla forces are the perfect instruments for the job, with their ruthlessness and brutality, not to mention their blind loyalty. And that is why we best be more careful from now on…"

They resumed their journey across the countryside for another hour, until Pipkin pleaded that they stop and rest, being unaccustomed to walking long distances, in contrast to Alan, who had experience. Finally, he resorted to carry the tired Pipkin in his arms, unwilling to slow down their rate of travel. Despite being much larger that his ordinary counterpart, not to mention rather chubby, the dwarf rabbit felt strangely light in his arms as he walked along.

Around midday, they finally reached the edge of a forest, where they came to a clearing, where an interesting surprise awaited. Alan froze as he caught sight of the first man-made structure he had seen in this strange world.

It was the ruins of a small Gothic church. The tile roof appeared to have caved in long ago from corrosion, the walls badly chipped and weatherworn. Moss, brambles, weeds and other vegetation grew from holes in the crumbled mortar, while the semi-collapsed interior resembled a forest in itself with untended vegetation. Surrounding the ruins was an overgrown graveyard; scattered tombstones were visible amidst the thick undergrowth, all looking weatherworn and broken from age. Alan and Pipkin stood open-mouthed at the sight.

"What in Frith's name is this place?" asked the dwarf rabbit in amazement as Alan, his heart in his mouth, put him down, and they both approached the ruins for a closer look.

"It's a graveyard; a place where we bury our dead. But where the devil did that come from? Did some sort of civilisation _exist_ here long ago or something? And…haven't I see this place somewhere before…?" Alan asked, mostly himself, as they approached the ancient ruins, which somehow looked vaguely familiar to him…

Kneeling in front of a granite headstone, using his sleeve, he scraped off the moss and grime obscuring the inscription. With some difficulty, he read aloud:

REST IN PEACE

RICHARD GEORGE ADAMS

1920-2021

BELOVED HUSBAND, FATHER AND GRANDFATHER

AUTHOR OF _WATERSHIP DOWN_

Beneath the name of the famous author, whose imaginary world had somehow come alive following his passing, Alan also read a famous extract from Adams' masterpiece story:

'_My heart has joined the Thousand for my friend stopped running today._

_All the world will be your enemy, Prince with the Thousand Enemies and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, Prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people will never be destroyed.'_

Alan stood frozen in horror and confusion at his discovery. This was the grave of Richard Adams, the author of the story of _Watership Down_ himself! But how did it just happen to exist in this world and why was his date of death, a _future_ date yet to come, when Alan apparently knew him to be alive and kicking, living in quiet retirement in the village of Whitchurch in southern England?

Approaching the ruins, he saw a greening brass sign fixed to the church wall beside the collapsed entrance. Scrapping away the moss and obscuring grime with his palm, he read the faded inscription:

NEWTOWN COMMON CHURCHYARD,

BERKSHIRE

SERVICES EVERY WEEKEND

His heart nearly jumped into his lungs as he read the words; a major piece of the puzzle had just clicked into place. The truth was beyond belief, yet it had to be true.

The reason for the curious 'similarities' between this world and his own wasn't mere coincidence at all. This wasn't a world that existed in another _dimension_ or something, as he had originally deduced; it was the same world he had been born and lived in all his life. All the evidence now pointed to only one conclusion that went beyond the realm of scientific reality: _Time Travel_.

Alan felt his knees give way in shock, as the truth finally dawned on him: he and his companions had been thrown - and were now stranded - into a distant future era.

**Author's note:** Chapter 10 is up! As most of you guessed, Newtown Common churchyard is a real place and is also featured in the WD movie and book. Enjoy and please review so I can continue updating. Thank you!


	11. Chapter 11 Friend or Foe?

Alan sunk to his knees, shell-shocked, as the answer to all this mystery finally came to light: he had been thrown _forward in time_, into a new era where the human race no longer dominated the planet. This strange world was the _future_ - a future where these giant talking rabbits dominated the earth, as the new intelligent creatures, with human civilisation long forgotten. No more overpopulation, no more global warming caused by pollution, no more wastelands caused by warfare, and no more species hunted into extinction. The world had become something of a natural utopia, where these intelligent, yet nature-friendly creatures lived in harmony with Mother Nature.

Although enlightened to finally have some questions answers, his mind was now filled with a whole _new_ set of questions: What could have caused the end of mankind? How could an entire civilisation, which had survived through millennia of struggles and hardships, just cease to exist, and leaving behind no traces of its existence? His rabbit friends hadn't so much as heard of the existence of intelligent humans before, let alone human civilisation, despite the fact that they spoke broken English, whose origins were apparently long buried under the dust of time. And where had these creatures originated from in the first place? The mystery was still far from solved…

However, at least he now knew one thing for certain: he was trapped in the future with no way to get back. This strange new world had become his prison…and his paradise. Time had wiped out everything and everyone he had ever known, aside from his three companions. He was like an outcast dinosaur that had been resurrected in the unfamiliar world of the far future, with his own kind extinct and long forgotten.

Sensing his distress at the sight of that tombstone, Pipkin nudged him in the side, "What's wrong Alan? You look troubled." It took a good moment for Alan to get his voice back before answering.

"Oh Pipkin, the truth has been right under my nose all along: I am not from another _world_, I am from the _past_." Seeing his little friend's blank expression, he explained, "Long ago, another world existed on this planet, a world dominated by _humans_, like me. That world was somehow destroyed long ago and your world rose from the ashes, while time has moved on without me when I flew through that warp. Everything and everyone I ever knew is gone. Oh God…" Fighting the urge to be sick at this horrible realisation, he felt Pipkin nuzzle him encouragingly under the arm.

"No Alan, you are no different than us; we too are outcasts, without a home. It doesn't matter if you are a strange human from the distant past; you are still one of us now." Alan smiled at his little friend's kind words, as he adoringly stroked the dwarf rabbit between the ears. Besides, even if he was completely unprepared for this, what did he have back in his own time that he would solely miss? Nothing. With his family dead, his life had become meaningless. On the other hand, over the past few days, he had felt more alive than ever.

Here, aside from his new friends and a new purpose to carry on living, he literally had a whole new world to himself. This place was the wildest dream of any scientist or adventurer alike come true. The philosophical phrase from Adams' book, _'Be cunning and full of tricks and your people will never be destroyed,' _felt like a encouraging message to him, given that he was now in exactly the same position as the characters of his story were: lost, uncertain and with his entire life turned upside-down, forcing him to start over, with only his wits – and of course, his new friends - to work with.

Suddenly, the two companions were caught by surprise by a terrible scream in the distance. Staring overhead, Alan saw the same hawk that had attacked them on the river, flying overhead, clutching a screaming figure in its massive talons, straining with the weight, as it flapped its broad wings, struggling to gain altitude. As it flew over the graveyard, it lost its grip on its struggling prey, dropping its victim from about fifty feet up.

_Bloody hell, another event from the story comes true…_ thought Alan, as he raced to the scene.

The rabbit's screams ceased as she came crashing through the branches of treetops on the way down, plummeting to the ground. Alan leapt forward, arms outstretched, and was knocked to the ground, almost squashed flat by the figure's weight, barely managing to brake her, otherwise deadly, fall.

With the wind knocked out of him and with his hands and clothes drenched in blood from the figure's mauled body, Alan shakily got to his feet and turned to look at the injured rabbit lying in the grass. Both he and Pipkin gasped in shock as they recognised Violet. The poor doe had been viciously mauled and in a state of shock from the attack, but miraculously still alive. But there was no time to enjoy a reunion, as the hawk had turned around and was coming back to renew the attack. Alan hastily picked up the semiconscious Violet in his arms and turned to Pipkin, "Run! Into the church!"

They run as fast as they could across the graveyard towards the ruined church. Pulling away some thick vegetation that was obstructing the entrance, he ushered Pipkin inside. Pushing Violet inside too, he barely managed to squeeze in himself, before the hawk's talons scrapped the spot were he had been standing a second ago. Struggling frantically, he lifted a large loose tile from the floor and blocked up the hole. For a few seconds they could hear the angry hawk struggling to get through until its cries died down and they knew it had flown away. Alan breathed a sigh of relief.

"Bloody close shave that one. Are you all right lad?" Pipkin, although shaken and out of breath too, was unharmed. Violet, on the other hand, was hardly a sight for sore eyes, all bloodied and battered, "Yes, I think so. But what about Violet? Think she'll be all right?"

Alan turned to tend to the wounded doe; his first thought was that she might have suffered a broken spine or some other fatal injury in her fall. He felt her all over and found some deep talon scratches on her back from where the hawk had held her, in addition to other scratches and bruises she had sustained in her fall, but fortunately nothing life-threatening. She didn't seem to be in any immediate danger, but she definitely needed some rest and treatment for shock. Then Alan suddenly realised something.

_If the hawk snatched Violet from somewhere close by, then the others can't be far away. We have to find them fast, before that hawk goes back for more._ He turned to Pipkin, "Pipkin, I want you to stay here with Violet, while I go and see if the others are close by." As he had suspected, Pipkin wasn't too keen on the idea of being left alone, "Alan, please don't leave me here on my own…"

"It's alright laddie. I promise you I'll be back very soon," he said encouragingly, patting the rabbit on the head and then, without another word, turned and crawled out of the overgrown entrance. Making sure the hawk was nowhere in sight, he rushed into the direction from where the flying monster had appeared. After a few minutes, he came to the edge of a weed field, where he spotted the rest of the Sandleford rabbits, including Pimpernel who had finally awoken from his coma, as well as Derek, Robbins and McEwen. All of them were staring skywards, looking utterly miserable and terrified; undoubtedly, they had seen Violet being snatched away by the hawk and thought she was dead.

"Alan and Pipkin lost and now Violet's gone too. Maybe we shouldn't have come this way after all?" asked a distressed Acorn.

"And where were _you_ Bluebell? You knew of her condition and weren't there to protect her…?"Silver and, curiously, Speedwell, were glaring daggers at Bluebell, who was crouching low, sobbing softly, his humorous manner forgotten. Silver's anger was no mystery, given that he was Violet's brother and Bluebell failing to protect her from the hawk was an inexcusable mistake. Speedwell's attitude however was a mystery to Alan; the buck's eyes whose eyes were like those of an angry cat, filled with rage and grief, as he rounded on his cousin, "You careless bastard! I knew you weren't good enough for her! I pleaded with her, that you weren't trustworthy and now she's dead! _You_ killed her! You killed her! You killed her…" He broke down sobbing, unable to continue berating Bluebell, as his twin, also glaring daggers at the distraught buck, tried in vain to calm him. Bluebell seemed all the more crushed by his cousin's harsh words.

"I say, don't you think you're being a bit too harsh on him, Speedwell?" asked Alan casually, emerging from the trees, catching them all by surprise. The rabbits all spun round and gasped in shock as they saw their missing friend standing alive before them. There was a second of silence before all the rabbits rushed forward, engulfing him in a large furry hug, as they nuzzled him with expressions of pure joy, Derek and McEwen following close behind. Robbins only stood petrified with disbelief.

"Alan! You bloody bastard, you're alive! I knew it!" Derek said, literally on fire with excitement, as he slapped his childhood friend on the shoulder. McEwen was beaming from beside Derek, "Admirable bravery professor; one worthy of a true aviator…"

"You old dodger! I knew you were too stubborn to abandon us now," Bigwig yelled with excitement, as the rabbits continued nuzzling their friend in silent affection. Only Bluebell, Speedwell and Silver were staring at the ground in grief for the loss of Violet, hardly registering Alan's safe return. Fiver too, although overjoyed, also seemed upset about something. Sure enough, he slowly looked at Alan and asked, "Alan…what about Pipkin?" The man smiled.

"Did you think I'd save myself and let him drown? He is safe and sound." More cheers and applause instantly broke out amongst the group at the news. "Where is he then? How in Frith's name did you…"

"He is back there, tending to Violet," Alan answered, causing the group to gasp in shock again. Bluebell, flanked by Silver and Speedwell, instantly sprang at Alan, the former pinning him to the ground, his tearful eyes staring deeply into Alan's, "You know where Violet is? _Where_ is she? Is she hurt? Damn you ithe, tell me!" he yelled desperately, his heavy paws pressing hard into Alan's chest, making him feel as if he was about to be squashed flat like a pancake.

"If you kindly let me up, I'll take you to her," Alan gasped, finding it difficult to breathe under Bluebell's immense weight. The rabbit reluctantly obeyed and they all followed Alan back to the church. Bluebell darted in first, desperate to see Violet, followed by Speedwell and Silver. As Alan followed them in, he saw the wounded doe had regained consciousness; Bluebell had thrown himself at Violet and the couple were touching noses, the jester buck's spirit restored at finding his mate safe and sound. Fiver, who was nuzzling Pipkin with a brotherly fondness, shot Alan a look of gratitude, which the man returned with a smile. Only Speedwell frowned as he saw his cousin lovingly nuzzling with Violet, feeling heartbroken with jealousy.

Alan turned to McEwen, who had hurried up to Violet, carrying the medical kit from the chopper, "How is she doing?" The pilot, who was busy applying bandages and disinfectant, said, "Better than what I would have expected for someone given a ride by a giant hawk, followed by a free fall without a parachute; some cuts and bruises, as well as one hell of a shock, but nothing I can't fix." Alan frowned at the aviator's confidence.

"Since when are you a veterinarian, Major? You do realise human and animal medicine are two entirely different branches…"

"Twelve years of marriage to the finest veterinarian in England can teach you loads," McEwen explained with a smile, "My wife is the veterinarian in Newtown Common; half the farmers in the area are in debt to her, for keeping their livestock healthy." Alan turned away, feeling rather taken aback; soon, he would have to inform his companions that they were trapped in the future. There was no telling how McEwen would react to the news that his family were in fact long dead. Leaving him to finish tending to Violet, he turned to get a better look at their surroundings.

The interior of the old church, although still recognisable, had suffered considerable decay over the centuries. Weeds, moss, and ivy had sprouted from cracks on the tiled floor and from gaps between the stones in the walls, coating the whole place in thick vegetation, giving it the appearance of an unattended garden. Most of the windows were broken but a few glass shards remained attached to their stone frames, the sunlight shining through them. A large patch of sky was visible above their heads, where the roof had once been. The large circular stained-glass window on the front wall was still intact, emitting rainbow colours from the sun shining behind it. Any of the wooden choirs and stands that had once stood around the room, had long since rotted away.

Walking through a side door, he found himself at the bottom of the bell tower. The top of the tower had collapsed long ago, the bell now lying rusting on the bottom, like a giant overturned goblet. Climbing over the mossy debris, he found another doorway leading to a narrow, dark gallery where the walls were lined with rusted, iron shelves. In the dim light, he could see the mouldy outlines of book spines and other artefacts stacked on the shelves; it was a storage room where second-hand books and other goods the church collected for charity, were once stored.

Feeling hopeful, he walked over to the shelves, looking for anything salvageable. If some of these books had been preserved over the years, then they could be of some use to him and his companions, maybe even give them some clue as to what had happened to the world. To his utmost disappointment, that was not to be the case, for the books were all completely ruined from exposure to the elements; as he pulled at the spine of one, it crumbled to mouldy tatters, as if it were made of oatmeal, any traces of print long faded away.

_Dust though art and dust though shall return_, he thought in disappointment, brushing away the tatters from his clothes, before returning to rejoin his companions in the main chamber. By this time, the group had caught their breath and were staring curiously at the surroundings, wondering who – or rather what – had built this amazing structure they were standing in. The newly awoken Pimpernel was staring around in confusion, as a result of the concussion clouding his mind. The semi-healed lump above his left ear had turned a nasty shade of black, but otherwise didn't seem to have suffered any lasting damage. Although McEwen had confirmed the buck was definitely recovering fine, the buck's eyes remained slightly out of focus and he swayed slightly with each step, displaying a sense of disorientation, which was likely to persist for a while, until the blood clot in his brain cleared.

Alan told his companions everything that had happened after he had gone after Pipkin until their reunion in the field. He told them about how he had saved Pipkin from drowning, their run-in with the Efrafan Patrol, the discovery of the church ruins – which was all that was left of Newtown Common -, leading to his deduction that they had time-jumped into the future and finally, Violet's lucky escape from the hawk. When he was done, everyone, including his three companions, was staring at him in shock at this new realisation. McEwen, in particular – as Alan had feared - didn't seem to take the news well at all.

"So that means we will never see our homes and families again?" asked the Royal Air Force pilot, looking as if he had just been punched in the gut, "My wife and son long gone…dead for _centuries_…" Robbins was looking as if someone had just told him that his house had been burned to the ground, muttering silent curses under his breath. Alan couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of pity for the man; although he was a pompous, arrogant hindrance to them all, he didn't deserve to be in this situation, with his life turned upside-down.

"We must face facts: time has wiped out everything we ever knew; it's all dust. And since we can't get back, we have no choice but to start over. Personally, I intend to rebuild my life for the best…" Alan went on, suddenly feeling like the new Hank Morgan living in a new world, where his knowledge and that of his companions far exceeded that of their rabbit friends, presenting them with boundless prospects. McEwen however had his mind on different ideas.

"But surely there must be some way to _reverse_ the process that brought us here? You said your aircraft is still intact?" Alan nodded, "Well, perhaps if we wait till summer, when the marshes dry up, and then we could try and tow it out, repair it, and retrace our original course?"

"Perhaps, but we still don't know for certainty if whatever it was that transported us forward in time can be _reversed_, or even if it will still work by then. However, even if it can be done, I won't be coming back with you. My mind is made up. You, Robbins and Derek may go if you wish, but I am staying. I have been given a rare opportunity and I am not turning it away," he said, turning to smile at his rabbit friends who smiled back, their feelings of not wanting to see him go mutual. Even Derek, although sceptical of his friend's decision to remain in this supposedly non-existent world forever, couldn't suppress a smile, realising Alan had finally found his will to keep on living.

"What about those ruffians that tried to capture you?" Bigwig asked, bringing them back on track, "Do you think these Efrafans, or whatever it is you call them, are the reason behind all these strange disappearances Holly has been telling us about?"

"After what I saw this morning, I am sure," Alan said with a frown, "That miserable squad leader Vervain even spoke Woundwort's name. When I refused to surrender peacefully, he ordered us killed instead; only I gave them their just deserts," he added with a triumphant smirk, as he explained how he had given Vervain and his henchmen a good beating, sending them fleeing in defeat.

"You gave those scum a taste of their own poison?" asked Bigwig, a wide smile forming on his face, something Alan had yet to see in the burly veteran, "I bet their Chief won't be too pleased when he hears that they were bested by a mere_ ithe_. Good for you chum!"

"And that's why we better be careful from now on," Hazel said, as if reading Alan's mind, "We need to find a suitable place to build a new warren as soon as possible, so that we can have a safe place of refuge."

"He's right," said Holly, "We shall have to lie low from now on, and take turns standing watch every night so we aren't snuck upon unawares…" Alan wanted to point out that it would probably take much more than just hiding to evade Efrafa, when Derek suddenly called out, "Hey guys, come take a look at this!" They rushed over to him and looked where he was pointing.

What appeared to be chunks of old debris scattered around the room, were in fact piles of old human bones, lying half buried in hundreds of years worth of dirt and grime. Amongst the ghastly mess, were the corroded remains of many everyday objects including watches, rings, buttons, coins, dental bridgeworks, pieces of jewellery, belt buckles, eyeglasses, lighters and lots more artefacts their owners had been carrying on them when they died, not having eroded away with time, like the bodies. The church was like a mass tomb, with the remains of people who had come here seeking refuge from whatever it was that killed them, lying scattered all over the place.

"It must have happened pretty fast, whatever it was," Alan said, looking at the sad remains of their long dead countrymen, "Do you suppose it happened the same all around the planet?"

"Quite possibly," Derek said, as he examined the readings on some of the watches. "It looks like all these watches stopped at precisely the same time: 16:30 local time, on the 26th of some month. What do you make of it Al?"

"I don't know. Perhaps we will find more clues to this mystery as we keep going. All I can say is, it looks like some great catastrophe fell upon the world, perhaps an apocalyptic war," Alan said, remembering how nuclear fallout and biochemical warfare caused mass death, as well as horrific mutations in living beings, resulting in the evolution of new creatures. Perhaps something similar had happened to the world, changing it forever? Although it didn't seem like some sort of natural evolution… That would one of the many questions he still had to answer. But it would have to wait for later.

Seeing how tired they all were and with Violet and Pimpernel still injured, they decided to call it a day and press on in the morning. After building a fire, with the smoke ventilated out through the hole in the collapsed roof, the men gathered up all the skeletal remains and took them outside for burial. Like they had done with Julio and Harrison, they dug a large shallow pit and placed the bones and personal artefacts of the deceased in it. A simple cross, made from two stout sticks was planted over the unmarked mass grave, their occupants finally laid to rest, centuries after their deaths.

Later that evening, Alan was sitting outside, admiring the sunset, as he took the first watch for danger, thinking about his future; after he had brought his companions safely to Watership Down, he would have to make plans for himself too. Now that he was here to stay, he had to figure out how to adjust to life in this future world, to ensure his survival. He knew he lacked many important resources, such as weapons tools or books. With only his skills, academic knowledge, and whatever resources he could obtain from the surrounding environment, there was a slim chance of slowly building some sort of bearable life for him and his companions, although it would take a lot of time and effort.

His mind kept going over the countless of things they needed most; guns with plenty of ammunition for hunting and protection, tools for building, and encyclopaedias on all fields of knowledge to help him in his endeavours… The list was endless. Unfortunately, he had no gun or encyclopaedia, or any of the simplest things that could have saved him months of work; he didn't even have clothing suitable for this wilderness, his city clothes quickly yielding to the harshness of nature. With practically nothing other than his brains to work with would mean building everything from scratch. He was more thankful than ever that, at least, he had his rabbit friends on his side; to survive in this strange world of theirs he needed their support greatly, just as much as they needed his.

As he took off his glasses to clean them, he felt the cut on his forehead which Hazel had given him and found it had stopped bleeding and the bruising had receded somewhat, yet it still stung to the touch. He was just thinking of heading back inside to get a fresh band-aid from the first aid kit, when a kind female voice spoke from behind him, startling him.

"Does it hurt?"

He turned and saw Violet standing nearby, looking rather shy in his presence. The dressings McEwen had used to patch her injuries up with made her look rather comical, with those alien bandages and sterile pads plastered all over her. The doe continued to stare nervously at Alan with wide blue eyes. Seeing that she felt rather uneasy and lost for words, Alan answered sheepishly, "Oh, its nothing serious. Just a scratch. It should heal within a few…"

"Here, let me try _my_ treatment. It will help with the pain," the stunning doe said caringly as she reached forward and started licking at the cut. To Alan's amazement, it seemed to work better than he had expected; the stinging began to ease up as the doe's tongue cleaned the wound. Then he remembered: animal saliva had disinfectant properties, given that this was their only medical treatment. He smiled at the healer doe.

"Thank you Violet. That feels much better."

"My pleasure," the doe said, blushing under her fur, yet regaining her confidence, "Actually, I want to talk with you privately. Shall we walk?" The walked around the overgrown graveyard, past mossy headstones and chipped monuments.

"I never got a chance to thank you," Violet said after a few minutes of silence, still looking rather embarrassed. Alan smiled warmly, "Don't mention it. I didn't do much really; if that hawk hadn't lost its grip on you at the right moment, I wouldn't have been able to do anything to help you..."

"Nonsense, if you hadn't been down there to catch me and get me to safety, that fall would have almost certainly killed me – McEwen said so. Hadn't it been for you, I and my unborn children would be with the Black Rabbit of Inle now…" Alan looked at her with raised eyebrows; that explained why she had been too heavy for the hawk to carry away, not to mention having nearly crushed him when he had caught her.

"I am pregnant with Bluebell's litter," she explained, "And an ithe, whose kind I completely distrusted, prevented my mate from losing everything he held dear in life. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Mind you, I think quite a few rabbits hold you dear in their hearts; your brother and Speedwell seemed almost as distressed as Bluebell when I found them…" The doe looked at him giggling, "You've got eyes like a hawk ithe…I mean _Alan_," she said shyly, using the man's name for the first time.

Although dying with curiosity to ask why Speedwell seemed to care so much about her, Alan decided against it, afraid of prying into something that wasn't his business. But there was something else he felt he had a right to ask her.

"How come you didn't trust me when all the others did? Nothing personal, mind you, just curious," he asked casually, hoping he didn't offend her, his curiosity overpowering. True, after getting Holly's group out of their living tomb, and saving Pipkin from downing, had undoubtedly earned the trust of all the rabbits; only Violet had remained distant, seemingly uncertain of his trustworthiness. Although not taking offence at the question, the doe seemed hesitant to answer but, her sense of gratitude overpowered and she finally spilled the beans.

"Like Holly said earlier, long ago our warren was struck by a plague of White Blindness, unleashed upon us by this fiendish stranger, bent on destroying us for refusing to surrender to his rule. My and Silver's mother Flyairth – our Uncle's sister – became infected and was driven out to die. Oh Frith, it was so terrible..." She broke down shuddering at the memory. Alan bent down and put a comforting hand around her, as she went on, "Like my uncle, the incident left me distrustful of all strangers, not to mention that you are a human – supposendly one of our worst enemies – and I am expecting my young. It just… I just didn't know what to think… I am so sorry, you won't hold it against me will you?"

"No hard feelings dear. I understand entirely how hard it must have been for you," Alan reassured her, in the back of his mind wondering what kind of a brute would be willing to do something so low, and to his own kind nonetheless. Violet smiled warmly, feeling a renewed respect for the man, as she let him hug her reassuringly.

Suddenly, a comical voice interrupted, "My, my Violet, what would your poor Uncle say if he could see you now? His beloved niece, engaged in infidelity and with a _human_ nonetheless! Tsk tsk…" They turned and saw Bluebell staring at them with a mischievous grin on his face. Violet blushed and pulled away from Alan.

"Bluebell, this isn't what you think it is! And I said I wanted some privacy…" But Bluebell, thoroughly amused by his mate's embarrassment, replied slyly, "Tut tut, feisty aren't we?" Violet seemed to be getting really annoyed, "Bluebell, enough teasing!" The jester buck raised an eyebrow, "Temper, temper…I know just the way to help you cool down…" In one swift move, he had the doe pinned to the ground and playfully nuzzled her sides. Violet exploded into fits of giggles, "Bluebell stop! That tickles!"

Finally, Bluebell relented and the loving couple picked themselves up from the ground laughing; Alan was watching them, admiring the strong bond between them. After asking his mate for some privacy, the buck turned to Alan, "I believe I also owe you a debt I can't possibly repay; Violet is my life." Alan nodded curtly.

"Don't mention it. You know, you're one hell of a lucky buck Bluebell. Congratulations." To Alan's bewilderment however, Bluebell's smiling face fell, "I wish my cousin thought the same way as you…" Alan frowned; could this have something to do with Speedwell's strange attitude earlier? Although he disliked prying into someone else's business, he couldn't resist his curiosity any longer, and asked, "What happened?" At first he thought that Bluebell wasn't willing to discuss it, but then the buck explained.

"I was not always Violet's love interest; she was originally meant to mate with my cousin Speedwell. However, their relationship ended badly; Speedwell and Buckthorn, being identical twins, used to play a prank of making others believe one was the other. Anyway, one day Speedwell was assigned to escort a risky patrol, which would determine his position in the Owsla; however, Violet had begged him not to take on such a dangerous assignment. In an act of desperation to get that promotion for her own future benefit, Speedwell asked Buckthorn to pose as him so he could undertake the assignment without Violet ever knowing; unfortunately, she chose that night to be their mating night. Buckthorn, not willing to betray his brother's trust, confessed the scheme. Violet, feeling betrayed by the attempted deception, left Speedwell. Eventually, she turned to me for comfort; I think it may have been the fact that I made her laugh, something she needed greatly at the time, that she decided to mate with me instead and I accepted."

"I see. But, I take it that Speedwell still has strong feelings for Violet, right?" Alan asked, remembering something similar that had happened to him when he had been a teenager. Bluebell nodded, "He most certainly does and still hopes for a chance to win her heart again. Although he thoroughly regretted the scheme and even Violet now understands he meant no harm by it, she doesn't want our coming kittens raised by a foster father. Although she and Speedwell still remain on good terms, unfortunately Speedwell believes I had taken advantage of his mistake and denounced me as his cousin; Buckthorn also sided with him. We haven't spoken to each other since, even though we serve together in the Owsla."

"Well, although I agree that Speedwell did push things a bit too far with that little scheme of his, I understand how you both feel; I felt the same way when I lost one of my oldest friends over the girl that became my wife," Alan said flashing back to his college years, when he had first met his future wife Mary Millard, who had originally been the girlfriend of an old friend of his, now deceased. Although Alan had found love, it had inevitably cost him his friendship with his old friend Ronald Fields who, feeling betrayed, had never spoken to Alan again. Apparently, Bluebell was in a similar situation; he had won Violet's heart but had lost his cousin in the process, and didn't know how to make amends.

The two of them continued chatting for a little while longer, until Bluebell turned to go back inside (perhaps he feared of leaving Violet alone for too long with his cousin around). Alan continued his stroll around the graveyard, admiring the landscape, with the stunning beauty of the setting sun on the horizon, which resembled a Monet painting. As he sat down to make some notes in his pad, his eyes fell on three tombstones standing in a row before him, amidst the thick undergrowth. Scrapping off some of the grime from the weatherworn inscription on the first headstone, he read, to his greatest shock:

REST IN PEACE

ALAN ALEXANDER JOHNSON

1978-2012

BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER

DIED IN A SUICIDAL PLANE CRASH

AFTER SUCCUMBING TO MENTAL BREAKDOWN

FROM THE TRAGIC LOSS OF HIS FAMILY IN 2011

Alan had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself from the sight of his own grave, which Sergey Petrograd had dug in his memory, following his disappearance long ago. _So we were presumed dead and a funeral without our bodies was held for us_, he reasoned, frowning at the disturbing inscription on his tombstone, realising that the authorities had believed him to be a suicidal psychopath. The gravestone beside his, also had a familiar inscription:

REST IN PEACE

DEREK ROBERT SHAW

1978-2012

PERISHED ALONGSIDE HIS FRIEND ALAN JOHNSON

Each headstone bore the name of each of his companions, minus Julio, McEwen and his crew, whose families had 'buried' them elsewhere. Since Alan, Derek and Robbins had no family to bury them, the local authorities had apparently taken over their funeral arrangements and 'buried' them here in the local district. As he curiously bent down to read the inscription on the third headstone, which belonged to Robbins, he read something that shocked him to the core:

REST IN PEACE

RUSSELL RONALD ROBBINS

1978-2012

SECRET OPERATOR OF THE BRITISH M.O.D.

_M.O.D.? The Ministry of Defence? What the hell has Robbins got to do with the Secret Service? What has he been hiding from us?_ Feeling highly suspicious, Alan turned and headed back towards the church, intent on getting some answers about this unexpected development.

He entered and found his companions sitting around a campfire talking, without a care in the world. McEwen had lit a cigar and was sitting alone in a corner, probably trying to smoke away the painful thoughts that he had been separated from his family, perhaps for the rest of his life. Derek was trying to learn Bobstones from Buckthorn, who was a champion at the rabbit's game, but was turning out to be a rather poor pupil. Robbins was sitting in a shadowy corner, alone, writing in his journal, ignoring the others. Careful as not to look suspicious, he walked over to Holly, who was watching the Bobstone match and nudged him roughly on the shoulder.

"What are doing off your post?" the former Owsla Captain hissed sharply, "Bigwig isn't due to relieve you until ni-Inle. If an Efrafan Wide Patrol sneaks up on us…!" But Alan hissed at him to quiet down, "I think we have a problem Holly; we may have an impostor among us."

"Impostor? Who?" asked the Owsla captain sharply, turning round to face Alan, who gestured in the direction of the unsuspecting Robbins. Holly, getting the hint, quieted down and whispered in Alan's ear so that Robbins couldn't hear them, "What should we do about it? Shall we confront him right now?"

Alan considered for a moment before whispering to Holly, "Wait until after dark when everyone is asleep, including Robbins. Then stir up Bigwig, Derek, McEwen, Hazel and Fiver; don't tell anyone else yet until we know for certain what's going on here. We will wake up Robbins and take him outside, where we can question him in privacy. Until then, keep an eye on him but act normally so he doesn't get suspicious; we don't know what he's hiding or what he might be capable of." Holly nodded in understanding and turned back to the game, pretending nothing was wrong. Alan turned and headed back out to his post.

Just after sundown, Bigwig walked out, supposedly on his night watch, and informed Alan that they were ready. They went back into the church, where Holly was expecting them along with Hazel, Derek, McEwen and Fiver, whom he had aroused on Alan's request, but hadn't disturbed anyone else. After Alan had explained what he had found out ("I _knew_ that snake was up to no good," Derek said incredulously), they silently approached the sleeping Robbins. The man had drifted off to sleep by now, his journal lying open in his hands, from when he had been writing in it.

Alan slowly reached out and gently pried the journal out of the sleeping man's hands and flipped it open, shining his flashlight on the pages. Unfortunately, the ink had been badly smudged from the water during the crossing, making it extremely difficult to read. There were entries referring to some sort of mission to prevent compromisation of something called 'Project Black Inferno' as well as reference to some 'critical mission' Robbins had been assigned to do. According to the entries, that mission was in progress but still incomplete; however the part explaining the details of this mission had been smudged away. Tucked under the back cover, Alan also found three interesting photographs. The first showed Robbins shaking hands with an elderly, fat man with a bushy beard, probably a Russian. The second showed Robbins standing beside the old man and three other people, one of whom Alan recognised as Tom Shelton, their flight club flight controller. The last photograph showed an elegant-looking manor with some sort of warehouse in the background.

"I'll be damned," Alan said with a frown, "He has been bluffing us from the beginning; this guy is no more a video documentarian than I am Prime Minister. It's about time he told us the truth. Wake him up." They roughly shook Robbins awake. The man stirred and glared back at them, annoyed at being woken up like that,

"What the devil is going on?" he groaned, "What do you think you are doing, waking me up in the middle of the night…?"

"There is something very important we have to discuss in privacy. Now come along," Alan said coldly.

"Can't it wait till morning? I am bloody well sleeping," Robbins groaned, trying to make himself comfortable on the stone floor to resume his slumber.

"No, now on your feet chum," Bigwig said and roughly nudged him in the ribs to get up. They led Robbins out the door, towards his gravestone.

"Sit down," Alan said, pointing to a block of stone that lay on the ground, opposite the grave. Robbins complied, looking very irritated. They all gathered around him as Robbins glared back at them, thoroughly annoyed, "All right, what the hell is all this about? If this is some invitation to join the Skeleton Dance, I am not interested…"

"Actually, this is all about _you_. Who are you _really_? Whom do you work for?" Alan asked coldly, crossing his arms. Robbins, probably assuming they had no evidence against him, replied coolly, "I am a video documentarian for _Road Show Documentaries_; my job is to make documentaries. Does that satisfy your curiosity? Waking me up to ask about my job…"

"Then why does that headstone say that you are – or rather _were_ – working for the _Ministry of Defence_? Care to enlighten us?" Alan shone his flashlight on the gravestone, so Robbins could read the incriminating inscription. The man sighed with frustration; he knew now they had him in a tight corner. Yet, he managed to keep a straight face.

"I guess you figured out my secret, huh? Fine, I'll tell you. Yes, indeed I _do_ work for the M.O.D., as a Secret Intelligence operator. Because the details of my work are classified in the interest of national security, my papers say I am a civilian documentarian, so I can safely conduct undercover work…" Derek snorted at the explanation.

"Secret Intelligence operator, my aunt's hat. Besides, what does the Secret Service want with _us_? What were you trying to find out by spying on us, while posing as a documentarian? Does it have anything to do with this…Project Black Inferno, mentioned in your journal?" McEwen held up the incriminating journal as Derek spoke, giving Robbins the message that they already knew more than what he thought. The man gave the pilot an angry glare for invading his privacy, as he forcefully snatched it back and pocketed it, "What is this Project Black Inferno anyway?"

"Project Black Inferno is thought to be a secret weapon - a relic from the war - with unheard-of catastrophic abilities. According to information brought in by the Bureau, it is a satellite probe powered by three atomic cores, which can also be used as separate warheads; the satellite is armed with an ion cannon, capable of shooting powerful electromagnetic pulses and radioactive microwaves from orbit. Using layman's terms, this device can literally 'cook' any desired target from orbit; nothing caught in its range of fire can survive and no known weapon can stop it either."

"And who would invent such a horrible thing?" Fiver gasped looking horrified at the thought of such a vile contraption. Although the concept of warfare wasn't unheard of amongst rabbits, they had never witnessed the catastrophic effects of _human weapons_, as their only means of defence had always been their teeth, claws and physical strength. Bigwig and Holly were staring at Robbins with expressions of absolute distrust and suspicion, as Alan continued questioning Robbins.

"You still haven't told us what is the connection between us and this… this weapon. Is this all about someone secretly building this thing? Is that whom you were ordered to track down or something?" asked Alan, trying to piece everything together, while Robbins continued on with his explanation.

"My superiors had received information that the satellite was being secretly constructed right here in England, in an abandoned mine site outside Overton, with its major components smuggled into the country from Kazakhstan. I suppose you have also seen those photographs of mine? That manor is Buxton Hall, the suspected secret construction site of the satellite. My superiors 'orchestrated' our flight; you, Dr Johnson and Captain Andre were meant to be my _cover_…"

"But why pay _us_ to escort you? Alan and I had nothing to do with this business; neither of us are nuclear specialists, not to mention we're civilians and are supposed to remain out of the loop in such matters," asked Derek, detecting a flaw in Robbins' explanation.

"My superiors had reason to believe that the Red Hand Brotherhood had secret eyes and ears stationed within our department, bought traitors within our own ranks monitoring our every move. If they got wind that we even knew about Project Black Inferno, they would have relocated and we would have lost their trail. A flight carrying three ordinary civilians, and a _supposedly_ off-duty government operative, unrelated to their work, would have hopefully gone unnoticed…"

"The Red Hand Brotherhood?" Holly asked sharply, "What is Frith's name is that? A gang?"

"A terrorist faction, consisting mostly of radical Socialists, bent on reshaping the world into a global Soviet. Their satellite – if launched – would have altered the balance of power by initiating a new era of unstoppable world terrorism. The footage from our 'documentary' would have been used as evidence to confirm the existence of this weapon, so we could infiltrate the hideout. My mission was simply to investigate, undercover, and report my findings. That's all."

"And the flight controller, Tom Shelton? How does he come into the picture?" asked Alan, remembering the familiar face in the photographs.

"To ensure the _true_ purpose of our flight would not leak out, I took the liberty of enlisting several assistants, each covering my back in the right place; Shelton and Julio were enlisted civilians – like you - under instructions to fly us over the suspected launch site, so I could collect the evidence I needed. The man in the other picture, Sven Shertok is a fellow colleague from the Bureau, stationed undercover within Red Hand itself, acting as our eyes and ears…" Although the man's explanation seemed to have a certain ring of validity, Alan and his companions were still feeling most apprehensive.

"Why did you keep it secret from us all this time? And why not have your Military Intelligence people sort it out? Why choose _us_ at all?" Derek asked suspiciously at Robbins' peculiar motives; something in the man's story still didn't add up, yet Robbins didn't lose his cool.

"Espionage works in mysterious ways, many of which you wouldn't understand. I don't make the rules; national security is far more important than your precious privacy," he said coldly, trying to forcibly end the conversation, "Besides, it doesn't really matter anymore, does it? If this weapon ever existed, I suppose it's long gone along with the rest of the world. As you said, my mission doesn't really mean anything anymore, does it?" But Alan and the others weren't finished yet.

"Spare us your 'going by the book' bullshit excuses!" Alan snapped sharply, "In your journal, you clearly state that your mission is currently _temporary on hold_, although, as you just pointed out, it's apparently scrapped, given the circumstances of our situation. Why?" Before Robbins could formulate some sort of explanation however, a silky soft voice spoke out from behind them, catching them all by surprise.

"Greetings, friends. It looks like you have come a long way. May I offer you shelter in my warren?" In the dim light of the sunset, they saw a large chubby-looking buck with bushy white fur and a rather dull expression, standing against the moonlight. Bigwig and Holly were instantly standing in a fighting stance, their eyes scanning the surroundings for signs of more rabbits, thinking it was an Efrafan Patrol, come to ambush them.

"Who are you chum, and what do you want?" snapped Bigwig, as they turned to face the stranger. The fact that this rabbit didn't seem at least troubled at seeing a _talking_ human was a mystery to them all. The strange rabbit, however, seemed completely unconcerned.

"My name is Cowslip and I don't want anything," replied the stranger in a sickly sweet voice, "I just saw you out here and was wondering if you sought shelter or food. My warren is always open to weary travellers…" The mention of the rabbit's name joggled Alan's memory, creating an instant feeling of distrust for the newcomer. Cowslip was the Chief Rabbit of the Warren of the Shining Wires, a warren whose inhabitants were offered up to snares, set by farmers, in exchange for good food and protection from elil. Cowslip was Chief of the Warren of Death!

**Author's note:** The end of Chapter 11! What is Robbins hiding from Alan? For those you are still reading this story, brace yourselves for a wild ride in Cowslip's warren. Due to the circumstances of the situation, it will be a lot worse than just mere snares and lurking Efrafans… By the way, the 'skeleton dance' line is about a famous silent Disney cartoon. Do enjoy and please review so I can update faster! Thank you!


	12. Chapter 12 The Warren of Death

Alan turned and looked at his companions, who were staring at each other curiously; this strange rabbit, Cowslip appeared friendly enough, but had still displayed a most peculiar behaviour. Although edging to share his dark suspicions with the others, on the other hand, he couldn't help but wonder, could he be wrong? In the story, Cowslip's warren was infested with snares, set by local farmers. However, in this world, there were apparently _no_ humans around to set snares, so how could there be any danger? Not to mention, they also had their own needs to consider.

None of them had had a decent meal since leaving Sandleford and they needed more food if they were going to make it to Watership Down, which was at least another day's trek. Not to mention, the rabbits needed more recruits, especially does, if they were going to start a new warren. Violet was the only surviving doe, whilst the rest of the group consisted of the majority of the male population of Sandleford; fourteen young bucks that would need mates if they were to continue their society. The memory of the encounter with the patrol and the threat of Efrafa made Alan realise that more recruits were necessary.

Cowslip, meanwhile, had retreated into the foliage, saying he would be waiting for them back at his warren, should they decide to accept his invitation. He strode through the heather and was gone in the thickets. Once he was out of earshot, Alan turned to his perplexed companions.

"Odd behaviour that Cowslip, don't you think?" remarked Bigwig suspiciously, "What has he got to gain by asking us to join him? One would at least expect him to inquire as to who we are or where we come from…"

"And why, in Frith's name, doesn't he show the least surprise that we have a _talking human_ among us? Is he _blind_?" Holly added, looking utterly bewildered at Cowslip's peculiar acceptance of humans, which only added to his odd behaviour of admitting strangers without a second thought. Finally deciding it would be better to be safe than sorry, Alan spilled the beans.

"Because he means us more trouble than you realise," he explained grimly, "He is always open and hospitable to newcomers, only so he can lure them into a false sense of security by letting them imprint with his 'easy way of life'; this makes it easy for the snares pick them off, one by one. Under his influence and by indulging in the benefits of that easy life, they don't notice or care, which is why none of them - including Cowslip - are like idle-minded sheep. Their fate is spelled out for them: a carefree life without fear or hardships, as you wait your turn to die as the next sacrificial lamb," The others looked appalled.

"Well, in that case, nobody is going anywhere near that place. We push on at dawn. None of us are close to starving yet and we can always find more does and recruits from elsewhere," Bigwig said gruffly and the others nodded in agreement; their safety was more important than food or recruits. But there was still another thing to consider.

"But what about those poor rabbits trapped in that death trap? They may be cowardly fools, but we can't just leave them at the mercy of Cowslip and his snares," Fiver protested. Hazel and the others looked thoughtful; putting themselves at risk, when they _knew_ of the danger, was foolish, to say the least, but leaving other members of their own kind to such a miserable fate without doing something about it was downright immoral.

"Fiver has a point. Besides, in your story, some of them joined you and proved to be important for your new warren. Actually," Alan said, having come up with a plan, "I think there is a way. Mind you, it will take a lot of cunning, not to mention that it's going to be dangerous."

"Well, I'd like to be the first to volunteer for the job, chum. Let's hear your plan. Out with it!" Bigwig said, looking rather excited at the thought of a dangerous assignment. Alan considered for a moment.

"We accept Cowslip's invitation, but play ignorant to the fact that his warren is a death trap. Derek, McEwen and I can search the warren and remove all the snares, right from under Cowslip's nose. Once that's done, we can try discreetly talking to some of his rabbits that may be willing to join us. The warren has no Owsla, so we can expect little resistance; we recruit as many as we can, and then leave unnoticed."

"Cunning and trickery worthy of El-ahrairah himself," Bigwig commented, looking impressed, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're a rabbit in a human body. Good for you chum!" Alan smiled.

"With a bit of luck, it should be a cinch; nonetheless, it is important that Cowslip doesn't realise we are aware of his secret; the slimy coward is likely to try and murder us all in our sleep, to get rid of us. Are you in?" They all considered for a moment, as if weighing out the odds, but finally nodded in agreement.

"All right, then it's settled. Let's go and brief the others. And as for you…" Alan said, turning and pointing a menacing finger at Robbins, who still sat nearby, lost deep in his own thoughts, "We are _not_ done yet. We will finish our conversation later."

"I look forward to it," Robbins replied nastily at Alan's retreating back.

By that time, it had started to pour down with rain, which was extremely heavy for common English spring rain from Alan's time; the climate was warmer compared to that of the 21st century, so the rainfalls were much heavier. They returned to the church and found the others already awake, unable to sleep from the water leaking down through the ruined roof. After a brief explanation of their encounter with Cowslip and the dark secret of his warren, Alan outlined their plan to infiltrate the warren and get out any rabbits willing to join them.

" Remember," he explained, facing the group. " Keep clear of the thickets, or any other place around the warren that's likely to have a hidden trap. And_ no one_ goes wondering off alone; you could get snared with nobody there to help you. And should it happen, whatever you do, _don't_ _struggle_; it will only kill you faster. Your companion can summon Derek, McEwen or me and we can help you out. In the unlikely event that you can't reach us in time, find where the snare is attached to and try to loosen its peg; that's the weak spot. Above all, nobody breathe anything about our plan to _anyone_ in that place until we are ready to make our move. All clear?" They all nodded.

"Outstanding. Let's go."

They left the church and followed Cowslip's trail towards his warren, which was located on the far side of a grassy meadow surrounded by forest, where the village of Newtown Common - now long gone - once stood. The entrance to the warren was a large hole dug into the side of a little hill, resembling the opening to a mine. They saw Cowslip emerge as if expecting them, flanked by two other rabbits.

"Welcome friends. I am so glad you've decided to accept my invitation. Come in and share our happiness," said the sly rabbit joyfully, walking up to greet them, again showing no fear or surprise at the sight of Alan and his companions. Not surprisingly, nor did the other two rabbits flanking him. They reminded Alan of domesticated rabbits, which were fully accustomed and dependant on the presence of humans.

The group were ushered into the warren's main chamber, a large circular cavern just beyond the entrance run. This was the biggest underground chamber Alan had seen so far; the ceiling was several feet high, supported by the thick roots of trees growing on the hill above their heads, which protruded from the chamber walls below. Several side runs led deeper underground, to other parts of the warren, probably the living quarters. A large pile of assorted flayrah lay in the centre of the main chamber, forming a massive vegetarian buffet, enough to feed a small army.

But what really caught Alan's eye wasn't so much the ingenious architecture or the appetizing food, as the unique 'décor' of the warren. The burrow walls, in contrast to Sandleford, which had been plain earth, were embedded with a variety of strange stones, which were smooth and coloured, almost artificial. Upon closer inspection, he realised that they were actually small fragments of brick, porcelain, concrete, glass and even fragments of broken mirrors, undoubtedly remains of houses that had stood in the area centuries earlier. Alan, who had a good taste for art, could see that all these small bits of coloured stones were embedded in the earthen walls, forming crude murals, mostly scenes with rabbits that he couldn't fully understand, but quite a fascinating sight nonetheless.

_Looks like the artistic spirit has survived this far into the future, even if it has been passed on from one species to another_, he thought in silent fascination, staring at all the different scenes depicted in the murals, wondering what they meant. It seemed to be like a crude history-in-pictures, similar to the cave paintings of the Lascaux Caves, preserving historical events in the form of crude murals.

He could make out something that looked like a pair of rabbits standing under the rays of Frith, as if during a blessing, a group of rabbits feasting before a massive pile of flayrah like the one in the main chamber, and finally one with a rabbit bowing before a man on a horse. Unfortunately, there was very little detail recognisable and all the images were so crudely made, he couldn't get any impression of this future 'man', except that it was human and that he knew how to ride a horse. However, it was obvious that there were no images resembling anything familiar from the tales of El-ahrairah, almost as if the legendary folk hero was unheard of – or perhaps suppressed - around here.

A dozen or so rabbits sat comfortably around the chamber, not looking the least scared or even surprised that three humans had just entered their warren. As Alan stared at them with his flashlight, he saw a dull, vague look in their eyes, as if they were someplace far away, without any conception of the world around them, further increasing his suspicions of Cowslip. His companions however, couldn't help but feel utterly fascinated by the luxury of the warren.

"Plenty of does, good food, and fine accommodation too, if we wanted to move in," Bigwig whispered to Holly, staring in awe at all the healthy plumb and well-groomed rabbits. The others were staring hungrily at the pile of flayrah, drawling; after nearly two days with hardly any food, their hunger was starting to get the better of them. The sight of this hospitable atmosphere in general had completely diverted their attention, making them forget the reason they had come here in the first place.

"These rabbits must eat like El-ahrairah," Hazel whispered to Alan who nodded grimly, "Yes…only they are like cows on a milking machine!" He was interrupted from commenting any further however by Cowslip, who, delighted of their arrival, spoke again, introducing them.

"My dear friends, meet the latest additions to our warren," the oversized white rabbit said in a false, sickly sweet voice, "Let's make our guests feel welcome! Share your food and your burrows with them! Show them our grand hospitality!" The others, unable to resist the temptation any longer, soon joined in the feast, alongside Cowslip's rabbits, stuffing themselves, with the exception of Fiver, who stood aside, looking troubled; his sixth sense was in the red from some unseen danger.

"There _is_ something wrong about this place, right Fiver?" Alan asked his friend, who was shuddering violently, his eyes so wide, they seemed larger than his head, as he bent down and put a comforting arm around the young rabbit. Fiver huddled close to his friend like a frightened child, "Yes, there is something bad about this place. Something _awfully_ bad…"

"It's all right lad. We_ know_ what we're up against so we are in control. When Cowslip is asleep, I'll go out and remove those damned snares. Everything will be fine. But meanwhile, I need you to be strong!" he whispered urgently, intent on not letting Cowslip seeing the buck's distress and getting suspicious.

"I have faith in you Alan."

Hazel smiled as he saw Alan comfort his brother; at first he had been unsure of what to make of this human, but now he finally agreed that Alan was indeed trustworthy.

After a while, when Fiver had calmed down somewhat, Alan, also starving, helped himself to dinner; the vegetables tasted raw and unwashed, with a touch of natural decay, indicating that, wherever they came from, they weren't treated with fertilisers or repellents. Despite that, they were wholesome and satisfactory for his ferocious appetite.

As part of the plan, as they ate, Alan tried to get to know some of their hosts better. Soon, he found himself chatting with another chubby-looking buck with ginger fur and deep blue eyes, and his mate, a pale brown doe of equal size, both of which looked vaguely familiar; they were Strawberry and Nildrohein, two more characters out of the book, the former of which would ultimately desert Cowslip and join Hazel's band.

Strawberry had come to Cowslip's warren as a kitten with a band of wandering hlessil and had settled down here after his parents died. His mate, Nildrohein was Cowslip's daughter, who had developed a close friendship with Strawberry, a friendship that had blossomed into love after they reached adulthood. Remembering from the story, after Nildrohein had been killed by a snare, a distraught Strawberry had finally seen the error of his ways and abandoned his easy life in favour of Hazel. Alan made a mental note of talking privately to Strawberry later. Perhaps, he could be the key for the task of recruiting others, and hopefully, without having to watch his mate die this time round.

Later that night, after everyone had fallen asleep, Alan got up and silently headed outside, lighting his way with his flashlight, to initiate the next phase of the plan. Making sure he was alone, he began a thorough search of the perimeter for any signs of snares. However, to his utmost surprise, he found nothing; there wasn't a single trace of any kind of man-made trap anywhere.

Alan felt perplexed; perhaps he had been wrong after all? Maybe Cowslip's warren wasn't a death trap at all? Then again, where did all that good food come from when no one seemed to work and why did predators stay away when there was a bunch of plumb rabbits living here?

By that time, the first light of dawn had started to appear on the eastern horizon. Alan, now drenched in mud from poking around in the wet bushes, and not having slept for nearly a whole day, was feeling utterly exhausted. Deciding it best to postpone all further searching till morning, he quietly made his way back to the warren. Suddenly, as he approached the entrance run, he became aware that he wasn't completely alone after all; in the twilight, he noticed a small figure lying under a nearby tree, moaning.

Bending for a closer look, he realised it was Fiver, who had apparently sneaked out, the feeling of danger from his sixth sense being too overwhelming to let him sleep. The small buck lay curled up in a ball, moaning in his slumber, probably having a nightmare. Alan bent down and gently shook his little friend awake. Fiver gasped as he realised there was a large figure crouching above him but then calmed down when he saw who it was.

"What are you doing out here all alone, Fiver?" asked Alan kindly as he gently patted the runt rabbit, "You shouldn't be sleeping out here… What's the matter?" Fiver looked scared, but it wasn't from his premonition of danger in this strange place, "Alan, I saw something terrible. Alan…I think _you_'re in grave danger…"

"_Me_? In grave danger?" the man asked, suddenly feeling very alarmed, "What are you on about?" Despite being a firm academic and scientist – the likes of whom often paid little attention to the concept of the supernatural -, Alan also knew all too well, in contrast to most of his companions, that Fiver's visions of trouble were not to be taken lightly. As soon as he had calmed down, Fiver explained.

"I saw someone strike you down with a loud bolt of lightning, before a deep black hole opened in the ground and swallowed you up. Oh, Alan it was terrible…" Alan held Fiver close, trying to calm him.

"It's all right lad; I am here and I am fine. Everything is fine." But Fiver shook his head, "No, something bad is going to happen to you."

Alan made himself comfortable on the grass and continued talking to Fiver until the seer buck had drifted off to sleep again. Carefully, he picked him up and carried his little friend back down to the warren. Making himself comfortable on the straw bedding of the burrow he was sharing with Derek, Robbins and McEwen, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, Fiver curled up snugly beside him.

It was late the next morning when Alan awoke, the incident from last night completely forgotten. Now that it was daylight, he realised, even though he was deep underground, there was surprisingly enough light to see his surroundings clearly without the use his flashlight, which was the sunlight reflected off the murals that covered the walls of the runs.

Despite the 'elegance' of the place, it didn't take him long to realise how inconvenient the absence of common necessities were. Although the warren provided food and shelter, it still lacked many things that made _human_ life bearable; there was no bathroom, wardrobe, television, computer, coffee, soap, toothbrush, laundry facilities, or any other of the simple luxuries Alan was accustomed to. Even the simplest of things like heating, artificial illumination or even furniture, were entirely absent. His quarters consisted of just an empty oval-shaped burrow, with some rough straw on the floor for bedding.

Realising how badly he smelt, not to mention the filthy condition of his clothes, he got up and headed outside, where his companions were on morning silflay with their hosts. After he had washed at a nearby stream and even had a painful shave, using his knife as a razor and some mud for cream, he took Derek, Hazel, Bigwig, Holly and Fiver aside to a secluded spot, out of earshot from Cowslip's rabbits, for a private conversation.

"I did a thorough search of the perimeter last night. There is nothing; no snares, no signs of hostile humans, or anything that poses any danger whatsoever. I don't understand it…"

"Then perhaps you _were_ mistaken about this place?" asked Bigwig, "I knew that theory of yours was a little too far-fetched to be true…" Alan was surprised; how come Bigwig, who had been firmly on his side to infiltrate this place last night, suddenly decided to dismiss his warning of danger?

"I don't know. But I'll tell you this: I really don't trust Cowslip, snares or not. To be on the safe side, I suggest we stick to our plan and leave first chance we get…"

"Why in Frith's name should we do that?" snapped the mighty veteran incredulously, "If you are wrong about Cowslip, then maybe we should forget our original plan altogether and settle down here. I don't know about you chaps, but I am tired of wandering around like a lost hlessi. True, Cowslip does seem rather irresponsible when it comes to _security_, but that can be amended in good time. But otherwise, this place is like Frith's heaven and I see no reason why we should…"

"You're wrong Bigwig. This place is nothing but a vile death trap; we must go while we still can," Fiver said, looking anything but keen on settling down here. On the other hand, Bigwig was beginning to get very frustrated, his short temper already pushed to the limit.

"Oh no, not you too. Look, you and Alan may have been right about Sandleford, but that doesn't mean you are right about everything. We have to get on with our lives sometime, not continue wandering around aimlessly like a band of outcasts…" Hazel, however, also shared his brother's concerns.

"Alan has a point Bigwig. I've tried talking to Cowslip and some of his rabbits myself; they all seem extremely secretive and won't give me any straightforward answers. I don't need to be Owsla to tell that they are hiding something from us, and I am not sure I want to find out what it is the hard way…" Bigwig however, only seemed to lose what little patience he had left at his companions' lack of support.

"Embleer Frith, I've heard enough of this nonsense! Cowslip has invited us to stay and, by Frith, _I_ think I will. Now, if you duffers are too proud to face facts, then you are free to continue on to whatever Frith-forsaken place Alan has promised you. But I have found my new home." With that, he turned and stormed off. Alan couldn't believe what he had just been hearing.

"It looks like Cowslip's influence is somehow much stronger that I expected and is quickly gaining a hold on all of us, despite our awareness of the danger…whatever it might be," he said, as they stared at the rest of their companions out on the meadow, who were enjoying themselves, all sense of caution completely forgotten. With the exception of Hazel, Fiver, Holly, Derek and McEwen, the others seemed to have, almost magically, embraced life at Cowslip's warren overnight.

"So what are we going to do now? We can't just press on and leave our friends behind," Hazel said, "I don't care what Bigwig says; I don't trust that sweet-talking Cowslip one bit…"

"Then we must find a way to _make_ them see the truth for themselves," Alan said, thinking hard, "And that means, we have to find out exactly what Cowslip is hiding from us, _how_ he remains in control of all the rabbits here, and of course, how to put a stop to whatever it is he is doing."

"But how? If Bigwig - who is the most vigilant rabbit alive - won't back you up, you can bet your life the others won't either," Holly replied grimly. Although the former Owsla Captain of Sandleford had also been utterly impressed by Cowslip's warren, he had made a personal vow to trust Alan's judgement in future, after what had happened to his home warren, "If you're so certain about Cowslip, wouldn't it be a lot easier if we just cornered him and forced the truth out of him?"

"I am afraid that would do more harm than good, without _proof_," Alan said, thinking of a less drastic solution, which wouldn't risk enlarging the rift forming between his friends even more, "Not if we can persuade one of Cowslip's rabbits into _admitting_ the truth. I am sure every rabbit here knows exactly what's going on but are just too scared or perhaps brainwashed to talk about it. Actually, I think I have an idea of how to make it happen in the act. If Bigwig wants _proof_ that Cowslip is up to no good, then he shall have it. Now listen carefully…"

After leaving the others, Bigwig returned to his silflay, still feeling rather bad-tempered. This newfound life was everything a sane rabbit could ever ask for and he wasn't about to give it up now. He knew Fiver always had these crazy premonitions, but why should Alan be so stubborn as to endure that little runt's every whim? _Then again, given that fellow's tragic story, I wouldn't be surprised if he sees danger everywhere himself_, he thought with a chuckle as he made himself comfortable in the grass, his stomach full.

As he lay snoozing in the sun, he suddenly noticed Robbins slip out of the boundaries of the warren and into the woods, accompanied by Cowslip. Although he wasn't cornered about that sweet-talking oaf, Robbins was another matter. _What could he be up to, sneaking off like that?_ _And why is Cowslip escorting him?_ Suspicious at their curious motives, Bigwig stood and followed their trail all the way back to the graveyard. Taking cover behind some tombstones, he carefully watched the two figures, his ears straining to eavesdrop onto their conversation.

"So, my beloved guest, what is so important that you wish to talk to me about…_in private_? What is troubling you on such a beautiful day?" asked Cowslip, in his singsong voice. Robbins smiled devilishly, seemingly impressed by Cowslip's slyness.

"I came to warn you about my companion Alan. He and his friends are plotting to make your people revolt against you and join them as their recruits for their new warren." Bigwig narrowed his eyes, as if suddenly remembering why they had come, as he realised Robbins was betraying them! Cowslip frowned but didn't lose his sickly sweet voice, "So much for hospitality; I offer them shelter and food and they repay it with betrayal. But no matter, those troublemakers will soon realise what it means to cross me…"

"I see we both share the same desire," Robbins said, looking extremely pleased at having found a willing accomplice, "That's why I have a preposition for you. Listen carefully…" Robbins whispered something into Cowslip's ear, who grinned in satisfaction. But Bigwig had already heard everything he wanted to hear, realising his big mistake in trusting Cowslip - as well as Robbins. Suddenly, he sprang from his hiding spot, glaring at each of the two plotters in turn. Cowslip flinched at the sight of the burly rabbit advancing and run to hide behind Robbins.

"Caught in the act! And to think, I was such a blind fool to _trust_ you Cowslip! And _you_ finally decided to show your true colours Robbins? Why are you doing this? Why sell Alan out?" he growled menacingly, staring at Robbins with narrowed eyes. The man, however, didn't flinch under Bigwig's dangerous stare, as he cautiously drew his stun gun from his back pocket.

"If it's any of your business, you dumb, thick-headed oaf, I have some unfinished business to settle with him!" he sneered coldly, before suddenly lunging forward and zapping Bigwig in the throat. The burly veteran's eyes went wide as he uttered a painful groan, before crumpling to the ground unconscious. Robbins gave him a nasty look, "Some nosy idiots never learn to mind their own business…"

Cowslip stared at Bigwig's unconscious form with sickening satisfaction, "So what do we do with him now? Shall we drown him in the brook or leave him for the elil to finish off?" But Robbins had a different idea in mind.

"No need, I'll take care of him. I've been meaning to give this bullying, interfering oaf a lesson for a while now. In the meantime, you start digging in front of those three stones," he said, pointing at the three headstones that bore his name and those of his companions. Taking out his strangulation cord from his pocket, he fashioned it into a hangman's noose and then brought it down towards Bigwig's neck…

Strawberry lay comfortably beside Nildrohein, as the happy couple lay snoozing in the sun. Suddenly, the tall form of Alan loomed into view above him, "Hi there. Sorry to disturb you Strawberry but I was just wondering if you could show me around; I really don't know my way around here…"

"Why, of course, I would be delighted to give you a tour. Come with me," Strawberry said excitingly as he turned to Nildrohein, "Excuse me love, I'll be back soon." In his excitement, he didn't notice the man activate the open audition mode on a walkie-talkie tucked in his belt, which McEwen had given him, so that they could hear everything the ginger buck was saying from afar.

Strawberry led Alan to a small plain close to the warren, filled with scattered stone ruins, which were the remains of the village of Newtown Common. Square stone or brick patterns could been seen in the ground everywhere, which were the foundations of structures, now long since swept away by some great catastrophe it seemed. Everything was coated in a blanket of thick vegetation, indicating the long passage of time.

Strawberry led Alan down a hole, which Alan recognised as the entrance to an old basement that had once stood beneath some local house, long since levelled. A collection of human trinkets lay scattered around in piles, which was Strawberry's secret collection: rusted parts of tools, bottles, glasses, dishes, cutlery, piping, watches, coins, bits of machinery, street signs, bricks, and other pieces of non-biodegradable trash that Strawberry and his friends had dug up from the ruins. It seemed that the buck's spirit, although suppressed by idleness and blind obedience, wasn't entirely extinguished after all.

"Nildrohein and I used to play down here as children," he told Alan, "We and our friends used to have so much fun digging up all these strange trinkets, although we've never been able to understand who made them or what they are for…" he said, staring at his reflection in a cracked mirror that stood upright against the wall, playfully imitating movements, while watching his reflection do the same. Alan was itching to point out to Strawberry that it was if fact _his_ kind that made all these things long ago, but that would inevitably reveal the purpose of his coming here, and it still wasn't the time; not until he had gotten the secret of Cowslip's control out of Strawberry.

At the sight of all this junk, he saw the possibility of finding something useful. Several sealed glass jars lying in a corner caught his eye. Forcing open the lid of one, he found some transparent liquid inside, emitting a familiar strong odour of petroleum; it was formaldehyde, well preserved all these centuries from being sealed in an airtight container, where it couldn't evaporate or solidify. And as it was highly flammable, it could be used as fuel. Another sealed jar was filled with baking soda, a highly reactive nitrate.

His first thought was the possibility of finding the necessary ingredients for making simple explosives, like gunpowder. They had no firearms to defend themselves and the giant predators of this future world were more than capable of murder, not to mention the Efrafans. However, he couldn't find any sulphur or any of the other ingredients needed for such an endeavour. As for tools, there were some iron and steel components lying around, but they were all eaten away by rust, beyond hope of salvage. He was overjoyed as he fished out a farmer's shotgun from the junk, until he saw its condition; all cracked and rushed, completely useless.

While Strawberry was preoccupied, Alan hastily shoved the jar of formaldehyde, the soda, and some other useful odds and ends he could find into a plastic bag and tucked it under his vest, before Strawberry could notice him stealing from his collection. Although they were practically junk, perhaps he could find some use for them later. They resumed the tour.

By now, Alan was beginning to lose hope of Strawberry revealing to him Cowslip's secret of control over his people on his own free will, but still felt hesitant to spill the truth of their coming here. The ginger buck led him behind some other ruins, where a strange figure stood atop a nearby stone, surrounded by a bunch of Cowslip's rabbits, making a speech.

"…Rain runs like a rabbit on its own; snow falls like a soft and silent stone; wind blows with a low and sorry moan. And this is all we have; we, who sleep, and dream alone…"

"This is Silverweed, our mystic. He inspires our warren with his beautiful rhymes," Strawberry said, staring at the strange rabbit with pride, as he led Alan up to the gathering. Although Alan wasn't a keen follower of poetry – with the possible exception of Burns and Coleridge – realising he still had a job to do, he decided to join in for the moment.

As he watched, he saw the slim, silvery white rabbit suddenly go rigid, a faraway look in his eyes, almost as if in a trance, staring blankly ahead. He could hear the rabbit muttering some strange words under his breath, which sounded like some sort of weird poetry in Lapine. A glowing, glassy texture consumed the rabbit's eyes, giving Alan the chills to look at it. Strawberry, on the other hand, seemed unconcerned as he joined in with the rest of his fellow rabbits – also glassy-eyed and in a trance-like state – as they repeated the strange rabbit's words in a lifeless, robot-like manner.

At the sight of all these rabbits hypnotised under the rabbit's gaze, Alan froze, remembering from the story that Silverweed was a mystic like Fiver, who used his poetry to brainwash the entire warren, preventing them from rising against Cowslip's way of life. He had also heard some rumours of Silverweed being a telepathic mind reader, capable of sensing and manipulating the thoughts of others. In an instant, it all clicked into place; it was _Silverweed's mystic powers_ that kept the rabbits here idle and content. This unseen mind-invader _manipulated their minds_, slowly diminishing their sense of fear and curiosity, forcing them to succumb to Cowslip's rule. And if that was the case, his cover would soon be blown…

He slowly started backing away, trying to keep a neutral face so that Strawberry wouldn't notice. Unfortunately, Silverweed, who seemed to sense Alan's uneasiness, suddenly snapped out of his trance and turned to stare at him, directly in the eyes. Instantly, the man felt a weird and highly unpleasant sensation inside his head, as the rabbit's supernatural sight penetrated his mind. Unlike Fiver's innocent touch, which only sensed emotions, Silverweed's was a violent invasion, much like a mind rape; the mystic was viewing his thoughts and memories like an open book! Alan quickly looked away to break the connection, but the damage was done.

"You… you're a _time traveller_! You and your friends are here to kidnap my master's people! Master Cowslip! Help…!" Silverweed shouted at the top of his lungs. In an instant, Alan had darted forward and clamped Silverweed's jaw shut with one hand, while holding him immobilised against his chest with the other. The silvery white rabbit struggled violently to escape but Alan held him firmly.

"Oh no, you don't! Shut up or I'll wring your bloody neck! You hear?" he hissed softly into Silverweed's ear, who continued to struggle, his shouts muffled by his hand. Meanwhile, the other rabbits, suddenly having snapped out of their trance, were staring in horror at Alan holding Silverweed by the neck, as if finally realising who – or rather _what_ – he was.

"An ithe!" someone shouted, "Scatter!" In an instant, the terrified group were fleeing, screaming bloody murder; all except Strawberry, who stood petrified, staring back at Alan with fear and confusion.

"What… what are you doing? Why are you attacking Silverweed?" the orange buck muttered fearfully, caught off-guard by the realisation that the stranger before him was a _human_, and slowly backing away in alarm. Alan, who was still struggling to restrain Silverweed, desperately tried to calm the ginger buck down with words, hoping he wouldn't run off until his backup – alerted by the sound of the commotion over the walkie-talkie – got here.

"It's all right Strawberry. If you'll just let me explain…" But the ginger buck seemed to have made up his mind, his reawakened instincts kicking in, and turned to flee. Seeing his chance about to be wasted, Alan knocked Silverweed unconscious with a rabbit punch, tossed him aside and raced after Strawberry.

Despite being a rabbit and supposedly faster than a human, Strawberry's chubbiness and lack of physical fitness came as an advantage to Alan, who soon caught up. Jumping on top of the ginger buck, he pinned him to the ground. But the ginger buck was still quite big, much larger than the runty Silverweed and could put up a pretty good struggle.

Alan was just about to lose his grip on him, when Derek, Hazel, Holly, McEwen and Fiver, who had been following them at a safe distance on Alan's instructions, suddenly sprang from the bushes and managed to restrain the frightened buck just in time, "You aren't going anywhere fat boy, now hold still!" Derek hissed, as they struggled to hold him down. Fiver spoke softly, yet firmly.

"Strawberry, please listen! We mean you no harm; we have come to get you and your friends away from this embleer place, so you may join us on our journey to our new home in the high hills. That evil wretch Silverweed was right; our friend Alan is indeed a time traveller, who knows the future - _your_ future. Your destiny is much more than being a mindless slave to Cowslip for the rest of your life."

Although Strawberry looked delighted at Fiver's mention of a life of freedom, if not utterly baffled by the realisation that these strange hlessil were in fact _working_ with this talking ithe, he remained hesitant.

"But… _wher_e are you going exactly? We are surrounded by the Dark Territory. We would starve out there or otherwise fall prey to the elil…"

"But surely you'd rather risk that, rather than continue this farce of a life? If you stay here, you'll become another victim of the snares soon or later." Although Alan already knew they weren't any snares around, he hoped Strawberry, in his confusion, would accidentally let something slip. And indeed he did!

"I don't understand. Our warren is perfectly safe, except for…" He suddenly broke off, looking as if he had just swallowed his tongue. Alan and the others rounded on him, listening intently, "Keep talking pal; there is no Cowslip here to bully you around." Strawberry still looked rather frightened and Alan realised he was about to reveal forbidden information. However, the large buck, encouraged by their offer of a chance for a better life, or perhaps because Silverweed's psychic influence had finally lifted from his mind, finally spilled the beans.

"At sundown before every new Inle, ithel storm our warren; they unleash some sort of bad air into the warren, which puts us all to sleep; when we wake up, some of us – only a few at a time – have gone and there is a supply of fresh flayrah left behind. Cowslip says that is that is the price we must pay for our good life and we should accept it with dignity; he strictly forbids us to mention any of this to newcomers, or even amongst ourselves. He forces us to listen to Silverweed every day and his words seem to control us; we quickly lose any will to defy him, as well as any sense of fear…"

"That's because _that_ little rat has been manipulating your minds all along, you idiot!" Alan retorted hotly, gesturing at the unconscious Silverweed still lying in the grass nearby, "He just tried to break into mine too, and that's why I fixed him good…" Strawberry, unable to take the harsh truth any more, broke down sobbing in shame and self-pity.

"Are you saying this place is _bewitched_ or something?" Holly asked, the idea of superstitions having a much stronger meaning from the rabbits' perspective, "Is that why Bigwig and the others accepted Cowslip's welcome so quickly, despite your warnings? Then how come _we_ weren't enchanted?"

"That's because it's not _magic_," Alan explained, "Silverweed is a _telepath_ with mind-penetrating powers, who can tap into your thoughts. However, he can't _forcibly_ control you like a puppet; it simply, gradually turns you idle and content, by 'suppressing' everyone's thoughts of fear or anger, much like the influence of a drug; over time, you eventually lose your will entirely. The others must have been exposed to him somehow, so that's why they…" At this, Holly gasped in realisation.

"By Frith, he's right; it all fits! This morning, while you were still asleep, there was some sort of entertainment hosted by that rabbit, reciting his poetry. Fiver refused to attend; Hazel, McEwen, Derek and I were also away at the time, scouting the surrounding area. After we returned, I remember seeing Bigwig looking much more content than when we first came; _all_ of them seemed idle-minded, as if enchanted from the sight of a stunning doe. Our friends were all being _manipulated_ and we didn't even realise…"

"I guess that's why Cowslip values Silverweed so much," Alan added, "His authority depends on that power. It also explains why Fiver couldn't stand being in that place; he could sense Silverweed's dark, tempting presence all around us with his far sight. Clever."

"But to what purpose?" Hazel asked, "If there are no snares, then what happens to those who disappear on every new Inle?"

"Nothing good, I can tell you that much," Alan said, slowly piecing the puzzle together; these 'savages' supplied the rabbits with food and defended their warren from any outside dangers; on the evening before every full moon, they would come, drug the warren, and then pick a small number of the plumiest rabbits for their buffet. It was a similar situation to that described in H.G. Wells' novel, _The Time Machine_, where the Morlocks bred the Eloi like cattle and used them as food.

Suddenly, Alan remembered that last night had been almost full moon; tonight was _full_ moon, time for another invasion. They would have to leave before sundown, or risk being caught in the attack. With a sense of utmost urgency, he turned to his companions.

"There is no time to lose; we have to leave here fast. Strawberry, you go and get Nildrohein and as many of your friends as you can persuade to join us. Derek, you and McEwen go back to the warren, find Robbins, and get as much food as you can carry. The rest of us are going to tell the others about Strawberry's confession, starting with Bigwig. I believe we needn't worry about them disagreeing anymore. But first," he said, gesturing at the unconscious Silverweed, "let's take care of _him_, before we fall victim to another of his tricks!"

Using some duct tape, they tied Silverweed's ankles securely together and also applied another piece over his mouth to prevent him from yelling. Most likely, he would be able to free himself within a few hours and try and regain control; but they would be long gone by then. They moved him behind the broken remains of an old fountain, hiding him from view, and returned to the warren.

"Something is wrong," Derek said as he returned with McEwen, carrying their equipment from the burrow, as well as an ample supply of food they had taken from the warren, "We can't find Robbins anywhere; Cowslip seems to have gone too, along with Bigwig." Alan frowned; what was going on here?

"How the hell can we lose someone? When did you last see them?"

"Well, Bigwig was definitely here this morning, but I haven't seen him or the others since. I don't know, perhaps they went back to the graveyard," McEwen said, "Maybe we should check it out…"

"All right, I'll go," Alan said, "Hazel, you and Fiver come with me. The rest of you, get everyone together and wait for us outside. The moment we come back, we are leaving. All right, let's move." They left the warren and headed back towards the church ruins, in search of Robbins and Bigwig. Alan kept staring at the setting sun, estimating how much time they had left before dark, which wasn't long coming. Judging by its position, they probably had another half-hour at best.

As they made their way through the thick undergrowth, they heard a pained groaning coming from close by and saw a rustling in the leaves of some nearby trees, almost as if something behind them was struggling. They pushed the branches aside, to investigate the sound, only to encounter a horrible sight.

It was Bigwig, hanging from the tree by a length of wire-cord that was tied in a noose around his neck. His enormous weight was causing the thin cord to squeeze his windpipe shut, almost cutting through his flesh, slowly strangling him to death. The mighty veteran was in convulsions, droplets of blood and saliva trickling out of his open mouth, as he slowly died.

"Bloody hell!"

Recovering from the shock of seeing their friend being strangled, Alan rushed forward and, with a swing of his knife, cut the cord, letting Bigwig's limp form fall to the ground. They turned him over and quickly removed the remaining length of cord that was still tangled tightly around his neck, so he could breathe. Bigwig however didn't stir.

"No, no, no…!" Alan desperately checked Bigwig for signs of life but to no avail. Although his neck hadn't been broken, it seemed they were already too late; he had been strangled to death. Hazel and Fiver were petrified, staring in silent horror at their brave comrade's lifeless body. But Alan wasn't giving up yet; pinching the buck's nostrils shut, he started giving him mouth-to-mouth rescue breaths, followed by systematic pounding at his heart, hoping maybe it would regenerate its animate beating again.

"What in Frith's name are you doing?" snapped Hazel incredulously, despite his grief and desperation, as they watched Alan continue furiously pounding Bigwig on the torso and blowing down his throat, seemingly desecrating the Owsla buck's body.

"When someone's heart has stopped, sometimes you can restore its beat by doing this and bring him back. Come on Bigwig old chap, breathe!" Alan panted as he continued pounding at Bigwig's heart and giving him rescue breathes at a steady pace. Unfortunately, Bigwig still didn't respond. Alan sighed in sadness.

"We've lost him. I am so sorry Hazel. This is all my bloody fault; I shouldn't have brought you here," he muttered miserably, clutching his hair in agony, feeling utterly awful. First his wife and daughter, and now Bigwig's blood was on his hands too. He half-expected the two rabbits to start yelling him for his carelessness; instead, Hazel approached his friend and placed a comforting paw on the man's shoulder.

"No point blaming yourself Alan. You warned us of the dangers involved and we all volunteered for this task at our own risk. But…hang on! I thought you said there weren't any snares around?" he suddenly asked, looking confused, despite his sorrow. It was only then that Alan also realised they were missing something.

"You're right, _this_ wasn't here last night. Just a moment…" he said as he picked up the discarded cord and examined it. "This is not a native's reed snare; it's a _strangulation cord_ made of copper fibres. 21st century technology no doubt, and an illegal gadget too I might add. But where did it come from? We didn't have this among our equipment…" Suddenly the identity of the obvious culprit clicked into his mind: _Robbins_!

"Robbins must have done this; that explains why he disappeared this morning. He sold us out to Cowslip! Bigwig must have realised they were up to something and tried to intervene… Come on, we are going to find those miserable scum!" He spoke into his walkie-talkie, "Derek, McEwen, does anybody read me?"

"_I read you Alan," _came Derek's voice,_ "What the hell is keeping you guys? Tensions are quickly mounting back here…"_ Alan turned up his volume so Derek could hear him, "Shut up Deke and listen! There has been some trouble. Bigwig is dead…"

"_What the bloody hell are you on about? What's going on there?_"

"I said, we've just found Bigwig strangled; and I think it was Robbins who did it. I want you and McEwen to arm yourselves with anything good you have and keep a sharp lookout in case he comes back. Make sure everyone stays within sight of each other. We are going to search the graveyard, to see if we can find him." Ignoring Derek's protests, they moved on, completely unaware that their supposedly dead friend they had left behind was slowly starting to move again; the CPR had succeeded in kindling the last spark of life within Bigwig's heart before it could die out completely.

As they approached the graveyard, vigilant and cautious, Alan kept muttering threats and curses under his breath, "Very well, Mr Robbins. You want so desperately to keep your secret? Then you can take it with you to the grave. When I get my hands on him, that murderous piece of filth will be one very dead man!"

They reached the graveyard, where they found an interesting surprise. The three false graves had been exhumed; three metal cases stood open beside each pit. Alan's first thought was that they were armoured coffins, but then realised they weren't big enough to house a human body. Peering inside one, he saw something that nearly took his breath away.

Lying inside each case was, what looked like, a bomb-like device, shaped like a giant pistol cartridge, packed on some upholstery foam bedding. Each device had a distinct symbol engraved onto their lime-green shell: a red hand held in a stop gesture. Built into the side of each device was also a small, digital control panel displaying the status of the device in Cyrillic.

"What in Frith's name are these?" asked Hazel, in a tone suggesting he'd rather not know the answer. The man stared at the devices, trying to find some sort of identification crest or serial number, but there was nothing; no flag or military crest revealing the country of origin, no serial number identifying the model, or any other markings as to where they had came from, or what they were for. Even the container cases, despite having remained airtight all these centuries, were corroded from the outside, all traces of print having long since been lost.

"I am not sure, they look like some sort of…warheads but it's unlike any design I've ever seen before. But how did they get _here_ in the first place?" he said, staring at the strange red-hand-held-in-a-stop-gesture crest on the shells; he felt certain he had seen or perhaps _heard_ of it somewhere before…

"I believe_ I_ can answer your question Professor," spoke a soft voice from behind them. They turned and saw Robbins standing with his back against a tree, a chilling sneer on his face, apparently expecting their arrival. Beside him stood Cowslip, looking very dirty from, what appeared to have been some heavy digging, but otherwise sharing Robbins' triumphant sneer. Alan glared at the two associates.

"What's the meaning of this, Robbins? And what the hell did you do to Bigwig?" he growled in a dangerous voice, staring at Robbins with pure hatred, his hand clutched firmly on the hilt of his knife. The man however seemed unconcerned at Alan's fury, as he laughed cruelly.

"That nosy oaf should have learned to mind his own business. But let's take one question at a time, shall we?" he said in a sickly sweet voice, "I have been working all day to recover something which I suspected would be buried here; a little inheritance from my friends back in the 21st century, so to speak. My dear companions, behold the thermoelectric cores which form the heart of Project Black Inferno, the ultimate breakthrough in the history of all weaponry!" he said gesturing at the nuclear cores lying in their cases.

**Author's note:** For those who I wondering, the character Silverweed in this story is taken from the TV series, since his role here is much more important here than in the book. Do enjoy and please review so I can update. Thank you!


	13. Chapter 13 A Dark Plot Unravelled

"_The cores of Project Black Inferno_?" gasped Alan in shock, "But how did those damn things get to turn up buried in _our own graves_, of all places? And how did you know they were here?" he asked sharply, glaring at Robbins. What was going on here?

"My old boss, Sergey Petrograd was ever so kind as to leave me a locator mark," answered Robbins, pointing at a peculiar mark engraved on the edge of each tombstone, which Alan hadn't noticed earlier: a red hand held in a stop gesture, similar to the crest engraved on the core shells. Alan then remembered what Robbins had said, when they had interrogated him the other night: the name of the terrorist faction designing Project Black Inferno was called The Red Hand Brotherhood; this crest had to be their calling card.

"Red Hand's ringleader, _your boss_? But you said you were working _against_ him and his faction at the M.O.D. Unless…" Suddenly, the truth became obvious, "You are a double agent, aren't you, you snake? You are one of those many eyes and ears those raving psychopaths have stationed in the right places, right?" Alan asked in disgust as he glared at Robbins, a traitor to the British government. Robbins smiled maliciously.

"Very good Professor. Indeed, my _real _job is to provide false leads to my so-called superiors at the M.O.D., to help my _true_ colleagues do their job. And so far, I have done outstanding work with rich rewards beyond my wildest dreams. Or at least I was, until a little over a year ago (our time), when someone inside the M.O.D. suspected me after discovering some files indicating that I have been secretly embezzling state funds to finance the completion of Project Black Inferno. Fortunately, we caught up with him and silenced him before he could ruin everything. I believe he was someone you knew; it was Miles Millard." Alan gasped in shock.

Miles Millard was his brother-in-law, the brother of his wife, a database administrator at the M.O.D., and a chronic alcoholic. Although he and Alan had had never really gotten along, he and Mary had remained close. Then, he had been found dead from, what apparently had been, a heart attack caused by alcohol intoxication, only a few weeks before the murder of Alan's family. If fact, because Mary had been so distressed by her brother's passing, Alan had taken her and their daughter on that fatal trip, only to lose them too. But to hear that Mile's death had in fact been _murder_ came as quite a shock.

"_You_ killed Miles? But how? Mary spoke to the coroner; he said he died from heart failure caused by alcohol abuse; there was no sign of any injury…" Robbins only laughed nastily at Alan's confusion.

"There are many ways to kill without leaving traces, one of them being the fact that the coroner was one of the many people out of Sergey's pocket," he explained gleefully, "Another method, frequently used by Red Hand assassins, is Agent Neuron, a nerve toxin of our own development, which leads to gradual heart failure. When injected - even with a minor dose - within a matter of few hours you start feeling disorientated, delirious, paralysis, coma and finally death, seemingly by a common heart attack – or in Mr Millard's case, complications by chronic drug abuse. We doped his drink in a pub one night and injected him with the drug after we had fleeced him on the street. However, from his mail records, we soon became aware that he had already passed on the evidence to someone else, who became our next victim."

"And who was that?" Alan asked, slowly piecing everything together. Why had Robbins staged this elaborate meeting with him, to confess being a murderer and a terrorist? Realisation and confession struck simultaneously.

"His sister, Mary Millard Johnson, your wife!"

Alan froze in shock and horror as he finally identified the man who had ruined his life, the brute who had taken away from him everything he had held dear. This ruthless butcher had been the killer of his wife and daughter all along, and had apparently come back for him as well! Beside him, he could see Hazel and Fiver also looking shocked to the core by that confession.

"It was _you_?"

"That's right Professor. Everything you saw at the farm was a _decoy_, to cover our tracks; the authorities – as well as yourself - thought your case was just an unfortunate run-in with a band of poachers. Not one person, not even you, suspected there could be something more to it. Our intentions had been to kill all four of you and make it look like an accident; only you wormed your way out of that one, didn't you? I cornered your wife while you and Shaw were out there playing the cavalry with my men, and killed her along with your daughter who had unintentionally become another witness that had to be silenced. Such a pity she didn't have Millard's disk on her; maybe I could have traded their lives for it…" Alan, close to losing his mind by now, was still struck dumb with shock and disbelief.

"But…but you look nothing like _him_. He had a different voice…" But Robbins only chuckled cruelly, seemingly amused by Alan's disbelief of the obvious.

"Like this, you mean?" he asked, before reciting in a different voice, the phrase that had haunted Alan's nightmares for over a year: "Trespassers! Shoot them!" Russell Robbins, who was evidently also an accomplished voice mimic, had indeed been the murderer of Alan's family all along! This was the final straw for Alan, who began to advance on Robbins, drawing his knife. For the first time in his life he felt a strong desire to kill in cold blood, without the slightest hesitation.

"You're dead, you son of a bitch! You are about to feel all the pain I endured because of your doing, only ten-fold! You will be begging for death_ long_ before I am through with you!" he said icily as he advanced. Robbins however suddenly drew his revolver from his belt and pointed it between Alan's eyes. The man stopped dead in his tracks, staring down the muzzle, threatening to blow his brains out at any second.

Robbins snatched the knife from Alan's hand and motioned him to stand back, all the while keeping the weapon fixed on him and his companions, threatening instant death to anyone who disobeyed or tried to run. Although Alan was tempted to take his chances and risk being shot in the attempt, he feared Robbins might turn the gun on Fiver and Hazel in retaliation. Sure enough, after making sure they were lined up before him in an orderly manner, so he had them in plain view, the evil man continued on with his confession as though there had been no interruption.

"After your fortunate escape, we suspected your wife might have passed all this information on to you, along with the disk. So we decided to forge that application letter and lure you into another trap, from which you wouldn't have been able to run. I would have hijacked the plane, landed it at an isolated area and my people would have destroyed it using a bomb, to make it look like we all died in a plane crash. Then, we would have taken you back to our headquarters for interrogation…"

"But I have no idea where that blasted disk is! Mary never told me so much as a word about it; you killed them for nothing you bastard!" Alan bellowed with renewed fury, realising that Mary and Lucy had only been killed as spares; Robbins and his gang didn't give a damn about how high the body count went, until they recovered their prize. Robbins sneered, looking completely unremorseful about the needless killings he had committed.

"However, our little time travel adventure forced me to postpone my plan at the last moment; I decided to maintain my cover temporarily, until I could figure out what was going on and determine the appropriate course of action. And finally, I've learned everything I need to know; it seems that the untimely death of my boss caused the abandonment of Project Black Inferno, since he was the only one – except for me - who knew the location of the cores. Therefore, it is my duty to return and finish Sergey's noble work."

"Fat lot of good it will do you, considering that you can't even get back to our own time," Alan sneered back at Robbins, "You know as well as I do, that our plane is our only remaining means of escape and it's not going anywhere. Besides, we aren't even sure _how_ to get back…"

"I have taken the time and worked out the solutions to both these problems: What brought us here was that mysterious Aurora Borealis that we have been observing every night. It's a two-way gateway between two time periods and it's waiting up there to take me - and _only me_ - back home. Which brings us back to you…" he said, his pleasant tone turning harder and more menacing.

"My mission was to kill you because you were a dangerous loose end. However, in the spirit of our adventure together, I am willing to offer you an alternative: if you and your rabbit friends help me salvage and repair the plane, I'll spare your lives and simply maroon you here; you can pose no threat to Red Hand if you're stranded several centuries into the future. I will be returning home with the funding - and the information - to complete Project Black Inferno myself; our original Treasury embezzlements were all wasted because of your brother-in-law's interference. I will even lie on your behalf and tell my colleagues that you are dead…"

"_Money_? What money?" asked Alan sharply; was the bastard actually considering _exploiting_ this future world for profit? Sure enough, Robbins opened his bag, revealing the hawk egg he had stolen earlier tucked inside, where his camera had been. Alan narrowed his eyes, "You stole that egg? Are you completely insane, you idiot? No wonder that hawk has been stalking us all this time. You nearly got Violet killed…!"

"Too bad, because I do business better than harbouring feelings for a butch of talking rabbits," sneered Robbins, not showing the least remorse for his actions, as he turned to the cores, which were live and beeping on a counting time clock.

"I have rigged these to ensure your cooperation; each device is fitted with an auto-destruct mechanism – in the event that the satellite probe meant to house them was lost or destroyed -, which has been armed and set on a 72-hour countdown. There are several pounds of enriched radioactive matter housed in each core, waiting to be unleashed in the form of a spectacular mushroom cloud, once the lead shielding gives way…" Alan grew pale as he realised that they were facing the prospect of a nuclear holocaust. Seeing the tension build up, Robbins reached the bottom line of his demands.

"This is the deal, Johnson: if you accept my terms – _all_ of them - I'll give you the key to disarm them before takeoff. You'll have just enough time to make it back here and diffuse them. If you cooperate all the way, and make sure the others stay in line while you're at it, I give you my word of honour that nobody else will be harmed," he said, showing them a cylindrical-like bronze key that hung around his neck; the only means of direct control over the cores and satellite probe. "You save yourself and your friends, I get my money, and we both go our own ways. What do you say?"

Alan was considering his options; he really didn't have much choice since Robbins had both a gun and the arming key to the bombs in his possession. If he cooperated, then at least, maybe they could walk out of this without anyone else getting hurt, so Robbins could go his own way and leave them alone. But, on the other hand, if he returned and completed Project Black Inferno back in their home time, there would be a whole new era of world terrorism, not to mention the serious impact it could have on the future. Then again, he might not keep his end of the bargain at all and just shoot them all, or otherwise let the bombs have them after he escaped… Fiver, who appeared to be reading Alan's mind, tapped him lightly on the elbow.

"Alan, don't listen to him please. I can sense the dark ambitions in his heart; he only intends to get what he wants from us and then kill us anyway. There's no hope bargaining with him…" Robbins, hearing that remark, appeared to lose interest in bargaining - or rather _taunting_ them.

"Fine, in that case, we'll have to do this the hard way; just the way I like it in fact. All right, Professor, tie the two bucks to that tree," he said tossing him a length of cord, woven out of strong reeds. "On the double!"

"You'll have to kill me before I do that," Alan snarled, using his own body to shield Hazel and Fiver from the gun, expecting Robbins to lose his temper and shoot. Cowslip meanwhile, still standing silently beside Robbins, was watching with sickening amusement, smirking evilly at their predicament. Hazel glared at him, seemingly questioning what kind of twisted insanity had made the buck participate in such a vile scheme, which would inevitably spell out the deaths of all his people, maybe even his own.

"I have been offered a most generous compensation in exchange," said the mad rabbit, as if reading Hazel's mind, "Robbins has offered me a place back in his own time; a place of power beyond comprehension. That's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that I can't possibly pass on."

Robbins' expression turned more threatening at Alan's refusal to obey, "Duly noted; and then I'll kill them too, since I'll have no use for them!" he snapped, aiming his gun tauntingly at Fiver, who cringed in fright. Feeling defeated, Alan picked up the lengths of cord and starting strapping his two friends to a nearby tree, giving them an apologetic look as he did so. They nodded in silent understanding. Robbins was watching them closely, making sure Alan tied the notes securely, sneering.

"There is no need to look so frightened my friends; after all, they say death by being bomb-vaporized is quick and painless. Unless of course, some predator gets you first; in this wilderness, if you are caught helpless, you are as good as dead. And there is nowhere to run from the cores even if you somehow get free; the detonation is equivalent to a Hiroshima-level disaster, multiplied by three. Such a pity; this world would have been worth a fortune to me, but I guess I'll have to settle for my prize instead, which is soon going to be the last remaining vestige of this place. In other words, _priceless_," he snickered evilly, overjoyed at the thought. However, his gloating was inevitably distracting him; and Alan was fully alert, waiting for an opportunity to make a move…

At that moment, he noticed Robbins was standing on a stray branch lying on the ground; and one end lay within his reach. His nemesis, who was too busy boasting of his success, hadn't noticed. Not missing the opportunity, Alan suddenly grabbed hold of the branch and pulled hard. Robbins, caught by surprise, tripped and dropped the gun. Alan instantly dove for the fallen revolver but Robbins, who was swift as a cat, drew Alan's knife from his pocket and pressed it hard against Hazel's throat. He smiled devilishly.

"Not so fast, Crocodile Dundee. Now, either hand over that gun or say goodbye to your friend," he stretched out his hand so Alan could hand him the gun, all the while keeping the blade of the knife firmly pressed against Hazel's throat. Alan was just about to surrender the weapon, when Hazel, also seizing the opportunity, bit Robbins' hand hard, his two front teeth sinking deep into the man's wrist. Robbins yelled in pain and dropped the knife.

Alan was just about to pull the trigger on Robbins, but the man swiftly tackled him to the ground and the two were soon caught in a furious fight, each trying to wrestle the gun from the other. Seeing that the situation was starting to tip out of his favour, Cowslip slowly slipped away, probably not wanting to be there should Robbins lose the fight.

Suddenly, the evil man head-butted his opponent straight in the forehead. Alan, who hadn't fully recovered from the concussion he had suffered in the plane crash, staggered backwards as everything started spinning around him and he saw stars. With his glasses lost in the struggle, he held against a tombstone for support, looked up and saw the blurry outline of Robbins triumphantly aiming the gun at his head.

"So this is where it ends Professor. In a second, you will be reunited with your dear family in hell," he sneered at his soon-to-be victim, "And your furry friends will also be joining you shortly! Any last words?" However, in his excitement, he didn't notice a figure silently emerge from the bushes, creeping up from behind him, about to strike. Alan smiled (although he couldn't make out the figure without his glasses, he knew help had arrived in the nick of time), much to Robbins's surprise.

"Goodbye Robbins. Do drop us a card from Hell," he said just before the figure's heavy paw cuffed the unaware Robbins hard over the head. The evil man gave a yell of pain and fell unconscious. Unfortunately, as he fell, his finger squeezed on the trigger of the gun in a pain reflex.

There was a flash, a deafening bang, and then Alan felt a terrible burst of pain erupt in his chest, as the bullet struck him directly over his heart. He staggered and fell backwards into his own empty grave behind him. The last thought that went through his head, before he landed on the bottom, where his coffin should be, was Fiver's vision of his own demise. Then everything went black…

**Author's note:** Sorry about this cliffhanger, but I like suspense! For those of you that have misunderstood, Sergey Petrograd had the cores secretly buried in the false graves, intent on recovering them later, but died before he could retrieve them and their location died with him, forcing Red Hand to abort. Stay with me for the next chapter, so you can see if Alan is alive or dead. Please review so I can update.


	14. Chapter 14 Savages alive

_He was floating away, glimpses of his life's memories flashing in sequence before his eyes: his motherless childhood, the death of his father, growing up in an orphanage, the Third World War, the murder of his wife and daughter, wasting away in depression, the flight through the time warp, meeting the rabbits of the future, the destruction of Sandleford, the beginning of their journey, saving Pipkin from drowning, the encounter with Vervain, the realisation of being stranded in the future, Cowslip's warren, Silverweed, finding Bigwig strangled, returning to the graveyard only to be ambushed by Robbins and Cowslip…_

Alan suddenly felt a sharp pounding to his chest, followed by another. He tried to shield himself but his arms felt like lead. Weakly, he opened his eyes; he felt extremely weak and sore, as if he had just recovered from a violent beating. He could feel the soft grass beneath him and could make out the outlines of many frantic spectators all around him. He could hear voices muttering anxiously.

"It's no use McEwen. The man is gone," he heard someone say, amidst many loud mutterings of despair and sorrow, "Wait, I'll try an intracardiac; it might still not be too late," came McEwen's voice from right above him. Slowly, everything started coming back into focus; through his blurred vision, he caught a glimpse of a syringe being brought straight towards his chest, just as he regained the use of his voice.

"No, wait! I am all right…" he groaned in a weak, almost indistinctive voice. There was instantly loud cheering and shouts of joy as his rabbit friends crowded round him, sniffing, licking and nuzzling him excitedly, overjoyed of his recovery. He could see Major McEwen, still clutching the wasted intracardiac syringe, struggling to keep them at bay, "Take it easy chaps. Let him breathe!"

He felt someone nuzzling against his shoulder and, turning, he saw Pipkin crying with joy at his side. Despite his lack of strength, Alan gently ruffled the rabbit's head, smiling. Looking down at his now unbuttoned shirt and saw a large purple bruise on his chest cavity, where the bullet had struck him. However, to his amazement, there was no puncture wound usually caused by a bullet impact.

He was lying on the ground beside his grave; Hazel and Fiver were also there, free from their binds. Derek, McEwen, Pipkin, Holly, his former Owsla, and even Strawberry, had also arrived on the scene, apparently alerted by Robbins' gunshot. The rest of his companions were nowhere to be seen, probably having been ordered to wait in the safety of the warren while the Owsla veterans checked out the trouble.

"Wh…what happened? How on earth am I still alive? That dirty bastard shot me…!"

But McEwen held up Julio's compass, which was now all bent and mangled; wedged inside the face, Alan noticed the lead pellet of a pistol bullet. The compass, which had been around his neck and, to his utmost luck, directly in line with his heart the moment he had been shot, had intercepted the bullet, saving his life.

"Fortune smiles on you today, professor. You're bloody lucky to be alive at all; the force of the impact caused your heart to stall and we had to use CPR to revive you. There is some heavy bruising but fortunately, no broken bones or internal bleeding. If there are no complications, you should recover after a few days of rest. It's a jolly good thing Bigwig was able to alert us in time; a few more minutes and you would have been dead for sure…" Alan felt as if his heart was about to stall again.

"_Bigwig_? But…but he is dead! Robbins strangled him! We found his body back there…" he exclaimed in shock, as Derek handed him back his glasses, which he had found lying on the grass nearby, "But wait! Then who was it that snuck up on Robbins…?"

"I believe that would be _me_," came a gruff voice from behind him. Turning, he saw Bigwig staring at him with, what appeared to be, an expression of silent shame, unlike the scornful attitude he had displayed earlier, when he had dismissed Alan's suspicions as being a mistake. An ugly-looking red welt caused by the cord was visible under his neck fur. Alan felt his jaw drop in shock, "_Bigwig_? I thought you were…"

"Taken by the Black Rabbit of Inle? No, I am not, not by a long shot," replied the rough veteran grimly, "And I have _you_ to thank for that, chum." Despite the pain of his injuries, Alan smiled.

"Don't mention it; I am just glad you're alright. For a moment, I thought we had lost you... Where is that scumbag Robbins? Did you get him?" he asked, slowly getting to his feet, McEwen's strong arms supporting him as he staggered, barely managing to take a seat on a tombstone, feeling disorientated and weak, "Easy there Professor. You are suffering from trauma shock. You must take it easy for a while…"

Suddenly, Alan remembered, "The bastard has got an arsenal of armed nuclear bombs! We have to stop them…!"

"No sweat Al," Derek said, his voice triumphant, as he held out the bronze key that activated the cores, along with a small notebook he had taken off Robbins, "That lousy piece of slime and his toys have already been taken care of," he said pointing to his left. Alan turned and saw Robbins lying on the ground, his hands tied behind his back. Cowslip also lay beside his accomplice, glaring daggers at the entire party, his paws bound securely together with duct tape. Both of them were bloodied and bruised, undoubtedly from the struggle with Derek and the others.

"Nothing could have been more easier," Derek said, running his fingers through the pages of the notebook, "Bloody bastard had the arming codes and activation procedure written down, word-to-word. Just a matter of punching in the override codes, using this key to switch to shut-down mode – and a touch of my engineering instinct of course -, and these things go right back to sleep…for good!" Casting a sneer at Robbins, the engineer tore up the notebook, destroying the scribbled arming codes, so the cores' self-destruct sequence could no longer be used by anybody, eliminating the threat. The arming key, which couldn't be destroyed, he pocketed for safekeeping.

"That dirty coward tried to make a run for it after he saw his accomplice fall," Bigwig explained, his voice full of hatred, as he glared at Cowslip, who cringed, "Only he run into Strawberry who fixed him good." He gestured in the direction of the chubby buck who looked mighty pleased with himself; being given the chance to strike back at the rabbit that had controlled his life for so long had felt really good indeed. Alan sighed with relief; with the bombs diffused and Robbins and Cowslip captured, they were in control again.

"That's the best news I've heard all day. And well done Strawberry; I believe you have no further qualms about joining us then?" Alan asked, pleased to see that the ginger buck had found his courage. Sure enough, Strawberry nodded with an expression of great confidence.

"By Frith, I most certainly have! Your friends told me everything, about how you know our futures, including what would happen to Nildrohein if I stayed here; Cowslip wouldn't have given an acorn about her life, anymore that he would have done for me… I just wish I could have persuaded the rest of our friends to join us too…" he muttered in a sad voice, disappointed that he couldn't persuade any of their fellow rabbits to abandon Cowslip's hollow way of life, other than Nildrohein.

"And I believe I owe you all an apology for not warning you sooner," he added, an expression of shame written on his face. Although he had unquestionably redeemed himself by standing up to Cowslip, his former allegiance to this place would continue to haunt him for a long time to come. However, nobody scorned his apology, making it clear that they held no grudge.

Bigwig also held a long face, as he turned to face Alan, Hazel and Fiver, looking very uncomfortable; if there was something that Bigwig dreaded, it was publicly admitting a mistake. Yet his soldier's honour forced him to comply.

"I also owe _you_ an apology for what I said today, not to mention an enormous gratitude," he said, slowly turning to look at Alan, Hazel and Fiver, "You could have left me to my fate; instead, you risked your lives to find me even though I was a stubborn, blind fool. You three were right and I was wrong."

With Derek's help, Alan slowly stood, taking deep breaths, finally feeling his strength return. After a while he became calm and the pain in his chest slowly receded.

"All right my friends, the time has come to continue the remainder of our journey. But before we do, we still have to perform a solemn duty; we have to hold court for these two," he said, gesturing in the direction of Robbins and Cowslip, who couldn't help surpass a shudder at their upcoming fate, "Even as outcasts, moral law and justice has to be retained." Alan turned to face his companions with the air of a court president.

"The first defendant stands accused of three cold-blooded murders, four further attempts of murder and one attempt of mass destruction. To preserve legal formalities, I ask you all as jurors, is the defendant guilty and should be condemned to death, or not guilty?"

"Guilty!" they all cried in unison. Although Alan didn't fail to notice that some of the bucks, including Fiver and Pipkin, seemed hesitant to so mercilessly condemn Robbins to death, they all knew that they had no choice; the man had already proven himself too dangerous to be spared, and taking him along as a prisoner, or just letting him go free, was out of the question.

"Very well. The defendant has been found guilty of all charges. The sentence…is death by shooting!" Although Alan was no brute, there were times when he firmly believed capital punishment was the only fitting solution…like now. He picked up Robbins' discarded revolver and checked the magazine, "There are nineteen rounds left; more than sufficient. The execution shall be carried out, just after we have finished passing judgement to the second defendant." He cast a cold glare at Robbins; the bastard would soon be getting his well-deserved comeuppance for what he had done to his family.

They turned to Cowslip, who gulped in fear, his sickening smile gone. He had no qualm of leaving _others_ to die on his account; but to find _himself_ in that helpless position, utterly terrified him, "The second defendant stands accused of conspiracy to attempted murder, slavery conduct, false imprisonment, abuse, and multiple cases of genocide. I ask you, is the defendant guilty or not guilty…?"

Before they could decide on Cowslip's verdict however, suddenly a commotion was heard from the direction of the warren, catching them all off-guard. Through the twilight of the evening, they saw a convoy of some monstrous-looking figures on horseback with flaming torches, galloping across the meadow, retreating into the distance, each carrying the unmoving form of a rabbit over his shoulder. The horsemen however, were not exactly…_men_.

Their appearance clearly showed they were some sort of mutated descendants of _Homo Sapiens_, only unlike any human beings Alan had ever seen before in his life. At least twice the size and height of the average man, with long, dirty unkempt hair and beards, and muscular hairy bodies, like apes. Naked, save for some loincloths and roughly cut animal skins, each hunter was armed with either a wooden club the size of a log, or a spear the size of a whaler's harpoon, aside from some blow-pipes and bows, typical weaponry of tribes of the utmost wilderness. The group all stared transfixed at this horrible sight. Before they knew what was happening, the horsemen had vanished into the woods.

"Everyone back to the warren!" Alan shouted and they all hurried back, worrying about what they would find there. There was no doubt what had happened; in the confusion with Robbins, they had waited too long and the native humanoids Strawberry had warned them about had come on their routine visit. And by the look of it, several rabbits had been taken. Perhaps some of them had been their own companions?

As they reached the entrance run, the suffocating odour of some unpleasant fume filled their nostrils; there was a cloud of thick gas coming from below, almost as if the warren was on fire, turning the air inside asphyxiating, much like a gas chamber. The chocking and coughing sounds of rabbits could be heard from below, struggling to breathe.

Placing their handkerchiefs over their mouths and noses to prevent inhaling too much of the unhealthy air, the three men ventured inside to help those trapped below, while the rabbits waited outside.

As they entered the gassed Hall of Bones, they found all the rabbits lying on the ground, semiconscious and delirious from intoxication. Lying in a corner, Alan spotted the source of this harmful gas: a sizzling bud of some strange flowering plant attached to the end of a long arrow, which was driven into the chamber floor close to the entrance, from where it had been shot.

"Opium," he coughed, his botanical nose quickly recognising the familiar smell of the ancient narcotic; the burning of the poppy buds was causing the narcotic-rich juices – commonly known as opium - in the plant to evaporate, creating a crude incapacitating agent that had swept the entire warren. Apparently, those that had collapsed first had been lucky; those that had managed to make it out had only been snatched away by the waiting hunters, the instant they had set foot outside. "Come on, we need to get the others out of here fast!"

Feeling the intoxicating gas quickly starting to get to them as well, the three men hastily located the remainder of their companions amidst the unconscious rabbits and quickly carried them outside into the fresh air, away from the gas. After a few minutes, Violet, Acorn and Hawkbit had come round, as the effects of the gas wore off. Confused, coughing and splattering, the three rabbits were luckily unharmed, if not a bit dazed. Then they realised that Pimpernel, Nildrohein, Blackberry, Dandelion had been among those taken, a large pile of fresh flayrah on the meadow outside the warren – the calling card of the humanoids - testifying to their breeders' latest visit, just like Strawberry had said.

"Come on, we have to follow them, or we'll lose the trail," Alan said, determined not to leave his friends to their fate, picking up Robbins' revolver, and turning to run in the direction the horsemen had gone. His companions called after him.

"Have you gone daft man? You can't follow those…those _things_! They'll kill you!" McEwen shouted, grabbing Alan sharply by the arm, who pulled away.

"And what are we supposed to do?" snapped the former marine incredulously, "Just leave them? Those savages will kill them and eat them! I am going after them, even if I have to go alone!" McEwen was about to argue that it was plain suicide but unfortunately, the rabbits were also determined not to abandon their missing friends; if they didn't, then their whole coming here would be in vain.

"Right then, I am going with you," Bigwig said stepping forward, "You saved my life today; I intend to repay the favour. Anyone else who would like to volunteer for a rescue mission?"

"Me too," Strawberry said, "Nildrohein is out there and I won't lose her now!"

"We are _all_ going," said Pipkin, as he and the rest all stepped forward, like soldiers following their commanding officer to battle. Alan felt touched; he had never seen such fierce loyalty before, not even during his war career, where being the hero usually went hand-in-hand with dying. All these rabbits were actually determined to follow him in the lair of death itself, to save their captured companions.

Suddenly, they heard a yell from behind them. Turning, they saw Robbins, free of his binds, holding Hawkbit by the ears, his arm wrapped in a firm grim around the rabbit's neck, sneering at the entire party. Cowslip was standing beside him looking triumphant. In the distraction with the horsemen, when they had run back to the warren, they had forgotten all about their two prisoners. Finding themselves unguarded, Cowslip had cut Robbins free with his teeth, who, in turn, had untied Cowslip. Now, because of their stupidity, Robbins and Cowslip were in control again, using Hawkbit as a hostage.

"The adventure ends here my friends," Robbins said with an evil smile, "Now, you either follow my orders precisely, or I wring this faggot's neck. You, Johnson, drop the gun and kick it towards me," he said, looking at Alan, tilting Hawkbit's head back even more as a warning, as if about to snap his neck. Despite his fear, Hawkbit found enough courage to retort.

"Don't do it Alan! Never mind me, don't you dare give it to him! He'll just kill us anyway…!" the grey-furred buck protested, his spine about to snap under the strain of Robbins' painful grip. But the thought of someone else dying on his account got the better of Alan and he put down the revolver and kicked it in Robbins' direction. He stared at his enemy with a look of hatred, muttering, "You'll never get away with this you know. I'll hunt you down till the day I die!" he said in a dangerous voice. Robbins only laughed nastily.

"Such a pity you won't be around to do it. You see, the dead don't walk the earth," he said, mocking his soon-to-be-victim, as he knelt down to retrieve the weapon, while still maintaining a firm grip on Hawkbit. But was he laughing too soon?

Suddenly, like a guardian angel sent from heaven, a familiar hawk dropped out of the sky, swooping down on the unsuspecting Robbins who, caught by surprise, didn't have time to dodge. There was a whoosh of wings, a flash of talons, a scream and then nothing. Hawkbit and the revolver fell to the ground as the hawk carried Robbins and the stolen egg, still tucked in his bag, away. Ironically, the eli, which had made more than one attempt on their lives already, had saved them in the nick of time, due to Robbins' ignorance of the creature's strong maternal instincts. They all watched as the hawk flew away, clutching its helpless victim in its talons, Robbins' death screams dying away…

_Well, I guess you were right Robbins. The dead don't walk the earth; they fly to heaven, or should I say to hell?_ Alan thought coldly, feeling a heavy weight lift off his chest; after all this, it had been fate that had finally avenged his wife and daughter. Cowslip, seeing his accomplice gone, had turned and fled back to his warren. Bigwig and some of the others were about to give chase, but Alan stopped them.

"Forget him, we haven't got time to bother with that rascal now," he said, picking up the revolver, "Finding our friends alive is our top priority at the moment. Let's go!"

They set off at a quick pace, following the trail the horses had left behind. After a while, they came to a rocky, crater-like valley, which seemed to have been formed by some massive explosion in the past, possibly a meteor impact judging by the geology of the terrain. Down in the crater, they could see, what looked like, a native village, consisting of some twenty simple straw huts. Using his binoculars, Alan spotted around a hundred of these humanoids gathered around a large bonfire that stood in the centre of the crater, as if preparing for a feast; a feast with their recently acquired prey on the menu undoubtedly. But there was no sign of their companions, dead or alive.

Now Alan finally understood why his talking abilities and intelligence were so special round here. These descendants of the human race seemed to possess a mere primitive intelligence and a savage nature, almost like the hunter-gathering tribes from the Stone Age. He could see they had discovered fire and had developed the skills of making simple shelters and weapons using wood, rock, animal skins, plants and other easy-to-acquire materials from their surrounding environment. However, they were millennia behind the advances of their 21st century ancestors.

Even the most common advances, such as farming were entirely absent; there wasn't a single trace of plantations or livestock of any kind, aside from their horses. Humanity had reverted back to its primitive stages and seemed to be dying out altogether. Alan shook his head; all those science fiction stories predicting advanced future civilisations he used to read as a child had just been proven wrong. He turned to the others.

"It's not worth the risk, all of us sneaking down there; we'd attract attention quickly. McEwen, Derek, Holly, Silver, Hazel and I will go check it out. The rest of you, wait here and be ready to run; we may have company on our heels when we come out of there…"

"Hold on. I said I am coming too. Don't you think for one instant that you are going down there without me…" Bigwig said sharply stepping forward, but Alan stopped him, "No, I need you _here_ Bigwig. Besides, you're still injured." As he had expected however, Bigwig, not being the type of rabbit to stay away from a fight, didn't look the least pleased with the arrangements.

"You're the one to talk; _you've_ just had a brush with the Black Rabbit of Inle and you're still insisting on doing all the dangerous work, leaving me to be a _spectator_. You offend me!" True, Alan was still feeling rather unwell from his bullet wound, as he staggered, out of breath from the run, his heart pounding dangerously. However, he maintained his composure.

"That's why I need you up here; better one weakened soldier than two. And should we need arise, I am counting on you to lead a backup to our aid." Bigwig, realising the importance of the strategy, finally nodded in understanding. While the others took cover in the bushes, Alan, brandishing Robbins' revolver, led the way, followed by Hazel, Derek, Holly, Silver and McEwen. They descended down a dried-up mud landslide, which formed the only way down into the crater.

Like walls, the steep sides of the crater surrounded the native village like a fortress. Alan noticed the ground and sides were all embedded with blackish meteorite rock, as well as various traces of ores, possibly further remnants from the composition of the meteor that had struck here long ago. At the far end they could see a small watering hole, formed by rainfalls, which provided a water supply for the natives.

The task was anything but easy; they couldn't risk lighting their flashlights, which would instantly give them away, leaving them searching literally blindly in the dark as they noiselessly crept through the lair, dodging from hut to hut and from rock to rock, looking for hutches or any place where rabbits were likely to be kept. Suddenly, McEwen called out, "Over there; I think I see a cage!"

Sure enough, through the dark, Alan could make out the outline of a cage, formed by some stacked boulders, creating an alcove, a wooden gate keeping the occupants contained within. Feeling hopeful, yet maintaining their alertness, they approached.

"Pimpernel? Nildrohein? Blackberry? Dandelion? Are you in there, chaps?"

Their calls were answered by wild hissing and spitting; the cage was filled with gigantic wild cats. Apparently descendants of domesticated breeds, but which had evolved into leopard-sized, savage beasts, all traits of their tame, cuddly ancestors long gone. The cats were clawing at them through the wooden bars of their cage, as if trying to maul them. The group staggered backwards to avoid the razor-sharp claws of their massive paws and fell over the edge of a nearby pit, invisible in the darkness.

With a sickening thud, they landed on something soft and crunchy. The off-putting smell coming from all around them, instantly told Alan all he needed to know. Sure enough, as he lit his flashlight, he turned and saw his companions staring at something nearby, petrified with horror.

Lying beside them was the truncated corpse of Pimpernel. His entire torso and abdomen had been chopped up and stripped to the bones. All that remained recognisable were his head - which had an ear and eyeball missing - his shoulders, and one of his forepaws; his entrails had all been ripped out, leaving only a mess of bloodied bones and fur. The pit they were standing was filled with more decaying skeletal remains of other rabbits that had fallen prey to the humanoids, leaving insects and maggots to clean up after their gory feast.

Alan turned away from his horrible sight, the contents of his stomach about to spill. Holly and Silver stood transfixed at this ghastly horror; Hazel gave a gasp and turned away, shuddering. His reaction shocked Alan to the core; Hazel had always been calm and courageous in the face of danger; now his courage seemed to abandon him at the sight of their slaughtered companion.

Derek was the first to lose control of his stomach and retched, followed by McEwen. Even though Pimpernel was technically just another rabbit to them and seeing him slaughtered shouldn't be any different than visiting a butcher's shop back in the 21st century, seeing a creature they had come to regard almost as a fellow human being like this, felt utterly revolting for the three humans.

Suddenly, they spotted several of those humanoids, carrying flaming torches, approaching. Frantically, they scrambled out of the pit and ducked behind some boulders, before they could be spotted. The natives paused for a few moments, as one dumped the gnawed remains of another slaughtered rabbit in the pit – one of Cowslip's lot -, and moved on. Breathing a sigh of relief, the rescue party settled down to recover, still shocked from the sight of finding Pimpernel butchered. Holly was the first to break the silence.

"That poor fellow," he muttered, shaking his head in shock and horror, "You were right Hazel; we should never have come here." He turned to the others, "We have to get out of here now…!" But Alan shook his head, "We still need to find the others; if they are still alive, we have to help them."

"Are you out of your mind Al?" Derek hissed, "_They are all dead_! They are probably roasting over that fire by now. We'd be lucky to get out of here alive, if we go now…!" But Alan, who had calmed down enough to work things out, replied, "I don't think they are dead; Strawberry said that these humanoids only raid the warren _once a month_; they couldn't have eaten all of them already. And I think I remember seeing…"

Quickly grabbing his binoculars, he zoomed in the direction of the gathering; sure enough, he spotted another cage on the far side of the village, close to the fire, "Yes, that's probably where they are."

"But that one is in plain view by the fire; we can't approach without drawing attention to ourselves," McEwen said, emphasizing the insanity of their mission, "We wouldn't stand a chance; they probably outnumber us ten-to-one and we have nothing to fend them off but one measly revolver, a knife, and a few flares. Unless we can improvise some sort of stronger weapon, it would be plain suicide…"

Suddenly, Alan noticed something gleaming on the surrounding rocks; they were tiny crystalloids of some sort that had apparently once formed the geological composition of the meteor, which had formed the crater they were standing in. Chipping a chunk off and bringing it up to his face for a closer inspection, he recognised it; it was iron sulphate, the primary ingredient for making sulphuric acid. This ore, which had originally been schistose pyrites in space, had fused from the friction when the meteor had entered the atmosphere, the intense heat creating a chemical reaction, which had converted this mixture of iron and alumina sulphate, into crude sulphate crystals. His mind immediately turned to the jar of baking soda he had salvaged from Strawberry's collection. What if…?

"Guys, I think I have an idea. Major, you go back to that burial pit and bring back any discarded bits of fat you can find. Deke, help me built a fire; not too big mind you, we don't want to attract attention. Hazel, you and Holly keep a sharp lookout; we mustn't have any interruptions while we are working." The rabbits looked confused.

"What are you going to do?" Before Alan could explain however, Derek, who had deduced what Alan intended to do with the ingredients, replied, "You're planning on making _explosives_? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I don't know, but it's the only option I can think of; now hurry up, we don't have much time!" While Alan noted down the procedure in his notebook, McEwen went and returned with handfuls of disgusting, gooey fat from the slaughtered, which the savages had discarded after having devoured the tender parts of their prey raw.

After building a smokeless fire, using an emergency fuel block from the chopper's survival kit, and using a stainless-steel mug as a container, Alan placed the mixture over the fire. The task took well over an hour, during which time, they feared one of the savages might spot their fire and find them; luckily, the savages, too preoccupied with their feast, didn't disturb them.

"What in Frith's name is that?" Holly asked, staring at the mixture, which was starting to bubble and sizzle, ready for distilling, "It smells like a dead rat in a burrow!" Alan chuckled mildly, yet not daring to take his eyes of his work; a minor slip and the mixture could become unstable and explode, killing them all, "Sulphuric acid always smells like that. I am almost done..."

The fat was treated with the baking soda, producing a quantity of glycerine; the sulphate crystals, after being separated from the rest of the unwanted minerals they were mixed with, were heated over the fire, producing sulphuric acid by distillation; this in turn was mixed with some magnesium nitrate, which Derek had found in large quantities on the ground, a result of another naturally-occurring chemical reaction of magnesium ore and animal guano accumulating from the squalor of the place, converting it to nitric acid. This, carefully mixed with the glycerine, produced nitroglycerine, a highly explosive liquid used for dynamite, Alfred Nobel's finest invention. Although only a small quantity, barely enough to fill a shot glass, it would suffice.

"It's ready; now all we have to do is find some sort of shells we can fill with this stuff, along with an absorbent, and then we are ready to fight a small army." There was nothing in the kit. Then, McEwen took out his cigar case and removed the remaining cigars from their aluminium tubes, "Will these do?"

"Splendid. Lets get to work." Using his knife, Alan punctured small holes in the caps of the tubes, where the fuses would be inserted. Using some cotton from the first aid kit as an absorbent, he carefully drenched it with the oily liquid, before stuffing it in the tubes and sealed them tight. Finally, he applied the fuses, fashioned out of his remaining cigarettes, which had been treated with gunpowder from one of their remaining flare cartridges. He repeated the same procedure until he had ten sticks of dynamite ready.

Armed and ready, they made their way towards the fire, where the savages were gathered. As they took cover behind a large pile of firewood, to survey to scene, they heard some screams coming from the crowd. Looking, they saw Nildrohein being dragged towards the fire. The doe was screaming in fear and pain, the savages almost dislocated her shoulders from their strong grip. They slammed her down on a flat rock that was drenched in dry blood from previous victims (including Pimpernel's undoubtedly), like a butcher's counter. Another savage came over her holding a large boulder, ready to slaughter her for their food.

Alan wasted no time. Drawing the revolver, he fired a shot that hit the executioner square on the forehead and the giant savage instantly dropped to the ground dead. The rest of the humanoids jumped to their feet, looking dumbly around for the source of this mysterious death. Taking advantage of the distraction, Alan threw his first stick of dynamite into the fire, where it instantly exploded, showering the entire crowd with burning ambers as well as killing several in the blast. The giants started running about madly, some trying to brush the hot ashes out of their eyes, others rolling on the ground trying to extinguish their burning tunics and hair.

In the confusion, Alan sprang towards Nildrohein, his companions in tow. The doe, looking scared half to death from the prospect of being butchered, as well as from the sound of the explosion, gasped as she recognised her companions, "You…you came for me?" However, there was no time for sentiments, because the savages had regained their composure and had become aware that there were intruders stealing their food, and started advancing in a menacing manner.

With Derek and McEwen covering their backs, each using the dynamite and revolver respectively, Alan and the others made for the cage. They could make out several rabbits trapped inside, including Blackberry and Dandelion. Derek lit the fuse of his first stick and threw it into the crowd, where it exploded, killing several more savages in the process. The remaining savages however, continued to advance with an animal-like instinct, ignoring their fallen comrades, determined to catch the intruders that had stolen their food.

Drawing his knife, Alan cut the ropes that held the wooden bars of the cage together; the gate fell away and they were able to get a good look at the prisoners inside. Aside from Blackberry and Dandelion, inside were also four other rabbits that Alan couldn't remember seeing back at Cowslip's warren, possibly hlessil that had been picked by the humanoids. At the sight of Alan, they shrunk back in fear, expecting any one of them to be taken next for slaughter.

"Professor, hurry up over there! I am nearly out!" called McEwen, as he shot another savage dead. McEwen and Derek continued firing at the enemy, while Alan and the others helped their overjoyed friends out of the cage. The strange rabbits however were another story.

As Alan tried to help them out, one of them viciously clawed his hand away, refusing to budge, and Alan had to yell to make himself heard, "Goddamn it, I have come to get you out of here! Do you want to live? Now come on!" It was only thanks to Blackberry and Dandelion's reassurance that they finally realised he wasn't one of the humanoids, coming to take the next victim for the feast, and followed the others out. They all turned and run for their lives, with the enemy in hot pursuit.

But suddenly, some of the savages, who had taken advantage of their delay to help the others escape, jumped in front of them, cutting off Alan, McEwen, Derek and Hazel from the others, who had been running up ahead. Now the four companions stood completely surrounded, with the savages closing in on them, their spears extended and their clubs raised in a menacing manner. There were like wild animals closing in for the kill.

Alan was just about to announce his last stand, when he spotted the savages' horses tied to a rock nearby; and stallions that size could make it through that mob at a fast run…maybe. He shouted to his companions, "Get to the horses! They are our only chance!"

They run up to the horses and untied their reigns, which were fashioned out of reeds, and had no saddles, and mounted them. Alan helped Hazel, who had never sat on a horse in his life, climb on in front of him. He and Derek had had riding lessons as students; McEwen, being a villager all his life, had been riding since he was a boy. Now, the oldest means of transportation used by the human race would save their lives.

The three men took the reigns and after a few unsuccessful attempts, the stallions took off at an amazing velocity, breaking through the barrier of savages, trampling those who didn't manage to leap aside in time. As they galloped out of the crater, Derek lit another stick of dynamite and tossed it behind him; in an instant, the landslide, which formed the only way out of the crater, was annihilated, temporarily slowing down the remaining savages.

They rode away from the village, with the savages in hot pursuit. As they reached the edge of the forest, they saw Bigwig, who, thinking they had been captured, about to launch a counter-attack on the village, to save them. As he saw his companions approach unharmed, he signalled to his Owsla comrades to halt, "Thank Frith you're all right! Where's Pimpernel?" His companions' grim expressions told him everything he needed to know. Alan paused for a second for Hazel to get off and turned to Bigwig.

"We have to make a run for it; those humanoids are following right behind us. Let's split up into groups of four and flee in different directions through the woods; they'll never find us in there. We will regroup on the other side of the forest, once we've lost them."

"Right," Bigwig said, turning to the others, "Acorn, Speedwell, Buckthorn and Blackberry, go that way. Bluebell, Violet, Strawberry and Nildrohein, you go that way. Hawkbit, Dandelion, Holly and Silver, that way. Hazel, Fiver, Pipkin, you're with Alan, Derek and McEwen. I'll take the new additions to our group. Go!"

They split up and run for their lives. The savages, which had managed to climb out of their crater, seeing their prey split up, making it impossible to chase after all of them, instead made for the slowest group: Alan's. As the group fled through the trees, archers shot a salvo of arrows in their direction. Alan heard a cry of pain and turned to see Hazel fall to the ground, an arrow protruding from his left hunch. Fiver and some of the others turned to help him but Alan urged them on, "No, keep running! I'll get Hazel."

Dismounting from his horse, he rushed over to Hazel, who was panting and moaning in agony. He grabbed hold of the arrow and pulled it out; Hazel yelled in pain and the wound bled badly, but at least the arrowhead was out. Unfortunately, this delay gave the savages the opportunity to catch up. However, they didn't fall upon them as Alan had expected; instead, he watched in horror as one hunter unleashed a large Doberman dog with sharp teeth and deadly red eyes, that went for its prey.

Drawing his knife, he held it in front of him like a spear, right in the path of the charging killer hound. He knew that if he missed, he and Hazel would be ripped to pieces by that monster. As the dog lunged for his throat, the man drove the knife to the hilt, straight through the roof of the best's mouth, and the hound dropped to the ground dead. But the race was far from over.

Realising there were more arrows and hounds on the way, in a final desperate effort, he took out his last stick of dynamite, lit the fuse and tossed it in the advancing enemy's direction; the stick exploded right in the middle of the mob, killing the rest of the savages and their hounds. Not pausing to look at the massacre, fully aware that there were more savages underway, alerted by the commotion, he picked up the semiconscious Hazel, got back on his horse and took off. Unfortunately, in his hastiness to get away, he wasn't looking where he was going…

Suddenly, the overhead branch of a tree found him at face height, slamming into him with the force of a battering ram. He tried to grab hold of the stallion's mane but it was too late. In an instant, He was swept off the horse, accidentally pulling Hazel down with him. The two of them hit the ground hard, rolling into a nearby ditch under some bushes and out of sight. Alan got a glimpse of the Aurora shining in the night sky above him, before he slipped into unconsciousness again…

**Author's note:** Chapter 14 is up! Thank you RogueFanKC and everyone else who has been reading my story. By the way, the idea of these future savages was inspired from the Morlocks in H.G. Wells' _The Time Machine_ and also from the Yahoos in Jonathan Swift's _Gulliver's Travels_. Coming up next, the arrival on Watership Down. Do enjoy and please review! Thank you!


	15. Chapter 15 Watership Down at last!

Alan slowly opened his eyes. He was lying in a makeshift sleeping bag fashioned out of their pilot jackets. He felt terribly sore, with a headache like a bomb having gone off in his skull. Slowly sitting up, fighting the building nausea caused by his slightest movement, he saw his companions asleep in groups all around, as well as the three horses they had stolen from the native village, grazing nearby.

Soon, the fog in his mind began to clear and he remembered what had happened last night. But he wasn't lying in the ditch anymore; instead, he and his companions were in the middle of a dense willow thicket, growing on the edge of a stream, completely hiding them from enemy eyes, humanoid or elil alike. Weakly, he stood to get some water and maybe some aspirin from the first aid kit to bring down his nausea.

Soon, he had squashed his thirst down at the stream and, after swallowing a hefty dose of aspirin, felt his headache and nausea receding. Relieved, he was about to lie down and go back to sleep, when he heard someone whisper his name. Turning, he saw Hazel, wide awake, limping up to him. His hind leg had a large compressor on it, covering the stitches sealing up the arrow wound. However, he too seemed to be recovering well as he settled down beside Alan, "Are you all right?"

"McEwen says I'll soon be fit to travel. By the way, thank you for coming back for me; I shudder to think what would have happened if you hadn't…" muttered the brown-furred buck, placing his paw on Alan's shoulder in gratitude. Despite his weakness and fatigue, the man smiled.

"Don't mention it. How long have I been out anyway?" he asked, massaging the sore wound beneath the bandages wrapped around his head, from where the branch had struck him.

"Since last night. How do you feel? McEwen and Derek said you were very ill and might not regain consciousness for days…" Alan chuckled mildly at his rabbit friend's concern, "I've seen better days. But don't worry, I have had worse than this and I've always pulled through. What happened?"

"After you fell, you landed on top of me and trapped me. They thought we were dead; it was Fiver who realised we were in trouble through his visions – Frith bless him - and guided the others to us. Don't worry, we all made it out safely, except for Pimpernel of course…" Hazel said, trailing off, remembering the horrible death of the Owsla scout. Despite that, Alan was satisfied.

"Well, at least we accomplished what we started out to do; we managed to find five recruits, including three does. Things are definitely looking up for a change. Tomorrow, we should arrive at Watership Down and you can start your new warren, just like I promised the Threarah."

"And what about you?" Hazel asked, "What do you and your friends intend to do afterwards?"

"To be honest, I don't really know…" Alan replied thoughtfully, "I can't foresee any real future for me and my companions, as we have no women among us and that means no descendants to rebuild the human race. I suppose we will probably manage to adjust to life in this world but eventually age and die, casting our kind back into extinction," he said grimly, realising that even if the three of them could rebuild civilisation somehow, their kind would be doomed anyway. Without women to provide them with children to expand their species, time would eventually wipe them out of existence…again. And then there was the mystery surrounding humanity's extinction – or rather _degeneration_ -, which still puzzled him.

"Hazel, are you sure that intelligent humans have never been heard of amongst your people? Surely your ancestors didn't know something of our former existence?" Alan asked, feeling bewildered as to how humanity could have just ceased to exist without a trace. After all, these rabbits spoke English, a language they had definitely _adopted_ from the human race, in addition to their Lapine culture, which was also of human origin. But Hazel only shook his head.

"No, humans have always been known simply as part of the Thousand, servants of the Black Rabbit of Inle just like the rest of the elil. Their task is to send any unlucky rabbits to the Shadowlands; a punishment from Frith from when El-ahrairah refused to control his people's endlessly growing population – or so Dandelion says. I lost my father and three brothers to Man; Fiver is the only family I've got left," the brown-furred buck explained, looking rather uneasy, almost ashamed.

"So you feel troubled by befriending _ancestors_ of the very creatures that killed your family?" Alan asked, finally understanding the reason of his friend's initial distrust of him. The buck looked at Alan straight in the eyes, "Yes…but I don't regret it in the slightest; you've more than proven that you deserve our friendship," he replied proudly, causing Alan to smile.

"Thank you Hazel," he said, feeling touched, "That really means a lot to me. You know, we might get to know each other better, since I'll most likely never be returning to my home time. When I was with Pipkin, I offered to pass on to him all the knowledge of my world; he looked rather excited at the idea…" Hazel chuckled slightly at this.

"I bet he was. Poor bucko lost both his parents and brothers to a weasel when he was still a kitten. He never got over the shock and stopped growing in size. Our mother nursed him back to health, shortly before she died from the hardships of last winter, and we and our neighbours have looked after him ever since. Although Fiver and I have always stood by his side, he has still longed for someone he can look up to, someone who can protect him. He did confide in me that he sees _you_ as a fatherly figure."

"So I've noticed," Alan replied with a chuckle, remembering Pipkin's affection towards him and vice-versa, "Just like I see _you_ as a true leader at heart, Hazel-rah." Hazel's eyes went wide at those words.

"Since when am I _Chief Rabbit_? Back at Sandleford, my family have always been outskirters. I couldn't even make it into the Owsla, let alone run for Chief Rabbit. Besides, the succession for leadership was handed down from father to son in the Threarah's family. Although, there were rumours that the Threarah secretly intended to have Holly succeed him rather than Silver…"

"In your story, you became the Chief Rabbit of Watership Down, and your time as leader made you legend," Alan explained, "Personally, I can't think of anyone who would make a better leader than you," Hazel looked stunned at the thought of being the destined Chief Rabbit of their future warren, something Alan had deliberately failed to mention until now. However, he still had serious doubts as to how he could fit such an important position. What did a lowly outskirter like him know about running a warren?

"I don't know Alan. Being a Chief Rabbit means an enormous responsibility and I am not sure I am up for such a lifelong dedication. Besides, not everyone here wants me as a leader. True, there are some like Fiver or Silver who would back me up, but the majority would want the likes of Bigwig or Holly in charge, for their strength and courage. There are even some whispers about asking _you_ to become our new leader…" Alan was shell-shocked at this.

"_Me_? Be your new Chief? You can't be serious! I am not even a rabbit for starters, not to mention that I have never had any experience in practising your ideology. None of the politics I am familiar with from my time would apply in your world. I hardly understand the philosophies of Frith and El-ahrairah, or even speak your native language properly. If I became leader, our society would soon crumble…"

"But you are courageous and caring; these are the greatest virtues of a true Chief. If we taught you our language and the philosophy of El-ahrairah, surely you could handle the leadership responsibly," Hazel said encouragingly, but Alan, realising where his friend was going, remained firm.

"No, it wouldn't. I could make a fine advisor, or perhaps an Owsla officer, but to assume leadership would only lead to corruption and, possibly revolt amongst us. My influence, as beneficial as it may sound, would only destroy the ways your people have led for generations. Alliance and friendship between us is fine, but to spread my kind's ideology through _leadership_ would be disastrous. My people's history is filled with grim stories of pristine civilisations wiped out through colonisation or civil war. I already bear the burden of too many past mistakes, to have something like this on my plate…"

At that moment, Holly returned from scouting the surrounding area, accompanied by one of the does they had rescued from the humanoids last night. Despite having a significant age difference, they both seemed very chummy with each other and Alan felt sure that Holly had found the love of his life, as he smiled at the man, "Glad you're finally awake Alan. Let me introduce you to Clover. Clover, this is Alan, our friend."

Clover was a white plumb Angora doe, originally part of a group of hlessil, who had been driven out of their home warren by a fox. After wondering aimlessly for a while, looking for a warren to take them in, they had run foul of the humanoid lair and captured. After watching her companions being slaughtered, with the exception of her two friends, Boxwood and Haystack, the trio had sat helplessly, expecting to die, until, by a complete stroke of luck, Alan's group had found them.

The doe smiled warmly, no longer showing even the least fear of being in the presence of the human that had saved hers and her companions' lives last night, "I am delighted to meet you Alan. Frith of Inle, I never thought I'd meet a human who is a _friend_ to all rabbits!" She nuzzled close to Holly who put a loving paw around her shoulders.

At that moment, Clover's two friends, accompanied by Strawberry and Nildrohein, also emerged from the bushes, returning from morning silflay, enjoying their new freedom. The two hlessil stared at Alan in amazement, yet no longer showing any signs of fear either, "You truly are Frith's messenger old chap. We all are in your dept," Boxwood said excitedly, as Haystack smiled warmly at the man, along with Strawberry and Nildrohein.

Alan couldn't help but notice that, now that they were away from Silverweed, Cowslip's rabbits, although inexperienced in independent survival, were not completely helpless, as he had initially suspected. Although struggling to adjust, they still retained spirit as well as free will. Alan wondered if Silverweed had anything to do with this; the moment he had knocked the mystic out, Strawberry and the others had all instantly 'awoken' from their trance-like state, without any signs of after-effects, as one would expect. His heart sank, remembering all the others they had left behind; however, there was no point troubling himself over what couldn't be helped anymore, as Bigwig announced their departure.

"All right chaps, break it up. We have to continue with the reminder of our journey."

They hadn't lost anyone to the savages, aside from Pimpernel, and although Hazel and Alan had been injured, they were still fit to travel on horseback. After examining their equipment, Alan realised he had lost his camera (much to his dismay), which had been in Robbins' bag, when its owner had been snatched away by the hawk. However, the rest of their equipment was intact, including their last stick of dynamite, Robbins' revolver, which still had some remaining ammunition, and three spears that Derek and McEwen had stolen from the savages during the chase.

They set off southwards, the men now riding on horseback. Having these horses proved to be a great advantage for the three humans, as now they could easily keep up with the fast pace of the rabbits, increasing their pace of travelling. Alan rode with Hazel seated in front of him, who still couldn't walk properly because of his injured leg. Soon the woodland begun to thin out as they came to a vast meadowland with small, scattered patches of forest visible here and there.

As they rode along, Alan could see traces of past human impact; herds of wild goats, pigeons, ducks, horses, pigs, bees and other farm animals that had returned to the wild after humans had disappeared. Other more timid animals such as chickens, cows and small breeds of dogs were nowhere to be seen, indicating that they had become extinct or had otherwise merged with their wilder cousins. As they travelled along, Alan took the initiative to note down a detailed list of all the animals and plants they saw; if they were going to be living in this world for good, the environment would have to supply all their needs.

It was late evening on the fifth day in the new world when they climbed to the top of a hill and saw their new home for the first time: Watership Down was only a mile away, on the far side of a valley where ploughed fields had once been, now completely overrun by unattended vegetation. Alan, Derek, McEwen, Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, Holly, Silver, Pipkin, Blackberry, Acorn, Speedwell, Buckthorn, Bluebell, Violet, Strawberry, Nildrohein, Boxwood, Haystack and Clover stood transfixed at the sight of their new home in the distance.

"Alan was right. It's just like I saw it in my vision. It _is_ real," Fiver muttered, staring open-mouthed at Watership Down ahead of them. Alan smiled.

"Come on, if we move fast, we should reach the Down before sunset." They set off through the plains, making their way towards the foot of the Down. As they slowly made their way through the thick vegetation, the sun went down and the darkness of night engulfed the group of twenty, as the moon came out. Now that the sky was clear, Alan was able to get a good look at their ancient satellite.

It was the same moon he knew from his time; all the familiar geographical locations on its surface were visible and hadn't changed over the centuries, aside from that curious bluish glow that seemed to radiate from it; some sort of thin atmosphere had engulfed the moon, reflecting light off its surface. That mysterious asteroid belt circling the Earth seemed to run parallel to the lunar orbit, just like the rings of Saturn, marking the trajectory of the Moon in the sky, like a massive planetarium model.

Alan wondered if at some point before the fall of civilisation, terraforming science had progressed enough to create a breathable atmosphere on the lunar surface. His mind kept flashing back to the works of Arthur C Clark and other science fiction authors and all their distant-future stories of terraforming and colonisation of other planets. Perhaps it was _science_ that had created his giant, long eared friends as well? The similarities of this world to the book were too great, to be mere coincidence…

After another hour of walking, they finally reached the foot of Watership Down; the hill towered some four hundred feet in the air before them. Alan called a halt. "We will camp here for the night and explore the Down in the morning." Leaving the horses to graze, the group settled down to sleep under the trees, with Bigwig and Holly taking turns standing night watch.

As Alan drifted off to sleep, he kept thinking about his future. Tomorrow their journey would end and it would be time for him and his companions to start a new life. They had a lot to learn and even more hard work to do, if they were to survive. Where were they supposed to start? Would they succeed? In spite of all his uneasy thoughts however, Alan was exhausted and soon drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The following morning, after a quick breakfast of flayrah they had stolen from Cowslip's warren, the group started climbing the Down. Before long, they stood on the northern peak between, what had once been, While Hill and Beacon Hill. Below them, the breathtaking view of the pristine landscape of the future world stretched out to the horizon. With Alan in the lead, the group took a brief tour of their new home.

Although the topography hadn't changed much, the environment had undergone significant changes over the centuries; the landscape had a much wilder look about it, like a place that had never seen human activity before. The Down itself had hardly changed appearance, only much greener, and with all footpaths, fences, radio station antennas, horse tracks and obstacles, and every other man-made object usually found up there, long since disappeared. Even Nuthanger Farm that had always been visible from their side of the Down had vanished completely, as had the nearby villages of Kingsclere and Sydmonton.

The most notable change however could be seen at the southwestern foot of the Down: the edge of a new, unnamed canyon, with a new river running at the bottom, stretched southwards, possibly all the way to the coast. Tributaries from the Enborne, the Test, among other local rivers ended there, creating waterfalls over the cliffs into that new, unnamed Thames-sized river. The canyon itself seemed to have been torn into the earth by some catastrophic earthquake sometime in the distant past before eventually filing up with water and becoming a riverbed.

The plateau-like Down itself, looked like a real safe haven: nearly a mile and a half long and one wide, with an overall area of around 500 acres with a clear view of the horizon in all directions, complete with a wild orchard growing on the western side and, it was the perfect location to settle down, both for the humans and rabbits alike. After four days of hardships and fatigue, they had finally found home.

"High ground, fresh water, and an ample food source nearby, and a perfect place to spot danger from afar. The ideal place to set up a safe habitat," McEwen said, staring with satisfaction at their new home.

"My friends, welcome to Watership Down, our new home!" Alan said, breaking the eerie silence, as they stared dumbstruck at the majestic place that was to be their new home.

"This place is where we will start anew," Hazel announced, "_All_ of us," he added, staring at Alan who smiled in gratitude. For the moment, their future looked promising.

**Author's note:** At first, the character Hannah was included in the story, but I cut her out at the last moment, because it was too difficult working with so many characters. Also, it leaves me some room for a planned sequel. By the way, _Life After People_ is a real TV show that gave me a lot of useful inspiration for the description of a future world without people. Enjoy and please review! Thank you!


	16. Chapter 16 Hazelrah

Life on Watership Down was anything but easy. No sooner had they arrived, than they realised the perilous task that still lay ahead of them. The Down, although hospitable, had no caves, holes or any other place that could provide shelter for the group of twenty. Finally, after an extensive search, they had found a deserted burrow beneath an ancient beech tree that stood alone on the peak of the Down, probably dug by some passing hlessil long ago. Although mostly intact, it was still far too small to accommodate them all.

Violet had examined the small burrow and found it to be in good shape, free of any traces of death or disease, and that it could easily be expended into a new warren, big enough to accommodate them all. Then came the question for diggers.

Alan learned that it was usually only the does that did the digging while bucks were members of the Owsla or advisors to the Chief, hardly ever labour workers. Hazel had suggested that they all pitch in with the digging anyway so they could have their new warren finished as quickly as possible, before they attracted elil or Efrafans. As it stood, there were only three does to do the digging, one of which wasn't even accustomed to such hard work, leaving them little choice. However, this only led to a heated argument, with many of the traditional rabbits, including Bigwig, Dandelion, Hawkbit, and Blackberry, bluntly refusing to help with the digging, claiming it was an insult to their pride. Hazel wasn't pleased.

"Right now, your pride is not one of my top considerations," he snapped coldly, "We all have an obligation to work, if we are to build our new home. I won't have you layabouts lazing away, while the rest of us slave away!"

"Is that so? Then _make_ me if you dare!" thundered an enraged Bigwig, who seemed almost keen to settle the argument with a fight. Despite being significantly smaller than the mighty veteran, Hazel stood his ground and faced Bigwig in a fearless manner. Before any blows could be exchanged however, Bigwig and Hazel were both restrained by Alan and Fiver respectively.

"Stay out of this Alan, before I give _you_ a beating!" thundered the large rabbit dangerously, trying to get past the man, who firmly blocked his way, "Not a bloody chance chap. Now get a hold of yourself!" He did hope that the short-tempered Bigwig wouldn't lose his temper and strike him; the memory of Hazel ramming him in the stomach back at Sandleford had been bad enough to last him a lifetime. Meanwhile, Fiver had managed to calm his angry brother down somewhat, enough to reason out with him.

"Fighting won't get us anywhere Hazel. We have to pull ourselves together or we'll be finished before we've even made a start." Hazel smiled back at his brother adoringly, impressed by Fiver's strong sense of reason, "You're right Hrairoo; this foolishness won't do us any good. But we have to settle this argument soon; every day we waste stranded out in the open, we are sitting ducks to enemies…"

"Then I believe it's time we took the first big step in officially establishing our new colony," Alan said, staring at his friend over his shoulder, while continuing to block Bigwig's way, "We need to elect a _leader_, someone to assume command and make key decisions round here." Hazel, he noted, looked visibly nervous, remembering their little chat the other day. The moment had come.

"All right, then let's elect a leader. So, who possesses all the traits of a true leader, including courage, strength, courage, wisdom and kindness?" asked Dandelion, who was the expert in rabbit customs. With the exception of the modest Pipkin, Fiver and Hazel, all the bucks raised their paws in response. Alan rolled his eyes; it would be impossible to elect their new Chief this way.

"How about Bobstones?" suggested Bigwig, in a rather childish manner, "Those willing to assume leadership can play against their competitors; he who wins against all competitors, will have proven his worth as a Chief," Aside from his superior fighting skills, he had a reputation for his skill as a Bobstone player - only second-best to Buckthorn - and was eager to use it to his advantage.

Holly, on the other had, had expressed a legal right for him to assume leadership, believing he still held the highest rank in the group, making him the Threarah's rightful successor. However, that wouldn't do either, since none of the former Sandlefordians were keen on resuming their old way of life; ever since their departure from Sandleford, they were all hoping for a fresh start.

"I've got a better idea," Alan said, "How about we turn this place into a democracy and elect a leader by voting? I believe that would work much better than Bobstones, dead ranks, or just simply arguing."

"Well, for starters, maybe you might want to enlighten us on this…_democracy_ of yours? That is certainly not a jurisdiction I have ever heard of," Blackberry said. This didn't surprise Alan; judging from his friends' medieval ideology, where the weak looked up to the strongest for leadership, it made sense that a democratic state had never been heard of around here. Clearing his throat, he explained in simple terms.

"In a democratic state, everyone is considered equal. Everyone has the right to speak freely, and the leader is elected by majority. Also, if the leader isn't fulfilling his duties properly, the people have the right to request that he be relieved of his position and have a new one elected." As he had expected, the rabbits, particularly the outskirters, who had never being considered equals back at their home warren, looked most keen at the idea of establishing such a state. Even the others, despite having had a respectful social status under the Threarah's rule, one that they would inevitably lose now, also agreed.

"Then it's settled; we use a democratic election," Alan said, "Now, let me outline the rules of the voting: First, those willing to assume leadership can't vote for themselves. Second, the voters have the right to vote on only _one_ candidate each. Third, no cheating is permitted during voting; those violating this rule will be disqualified. And fourth, those who wish to become Chief should bear in mind that it means a huge responsibility that they will be obliged to keep, possibly for the rest of their lives. Do not apply for the job unless you are absolutely certain. If chosen, there is no turning back."

After they had all understood and agreed on the rules, Hazel looked at the sun, "We will all take some time to think about whom we want to vote for, and who wants to join the candidates. At ni-Frith we will all gather to perform the voting ceremony. Think wisely and think logically. Everybody dismissed."

While Bigwig and McEwen assembled a patrol to scout the area around the Down for any signs of danger, Derek caught up with Alan, as he wondered off to have a smoke before the election, "Al, you have a golden opportunity here man! They all adore you and respect you. Why don't _you_ apply for leader?"

"Sorry Deke, but I can't do that. Hazel asked me the same thing yesterday and I gave him – just like I am giving you now - the same answer: If I became the new leader of these rabbits, my influence would inevitably corrupt all the traditions of their ancestors; it would be like stealing their world through colonialism. No, the leader has to be a rabbit, not one of us."

"Have you gone daft?" persisted Derek, "Why, your position as leader would be a great advantage to us for making a fresh start, not to mention what we can offer them! Two scientists like us among these superstitious sort? Hell, within a few years, we might be able to see civilisation reborn through _them_. After all, they have human minds like us; what harm is there in offering them all the benefits of the human world?" But Alan remained firm.

"I am afraid you spending too much time with your machines has impaired your sense of judgement Deke. I will never force these rabbits to forget their background through human colonialism. Haven't you seen how appalling domesticated animals become, once you remove them from the wild? This is pretty much the same thing. Although I agree on_ sharing_ some of our knowledge with them, to improve their way of life as well as well as ours, I don't agree on _corrupting_ their society."

At that moment, McEwen and Bigwig came running up to them, "You better come and see. We found something!" They followed them to a patch of forest at the foot of the Down, which, Alan knew, had once been known as Caesar's Belt. Lying spread all over the ground was the massive nylon envelope of a hot-air balloon. Although deflated, the rigging was still attached to the basket, which stood upright beside the wreck.

"Looks like we weren't the only people to jump forward in time," Derek reasoned as they stared at the abandoned craft. It seemed some thrill-seekers had decided to fly through the Aurora, only to find themselves huddled forward into the future. However, there was no logo or anything onboard indicating to which flying outfit it belonged to, or who had been riding on it. The balloonists were nowhere to be seen, "The only question is, _where_ are they?"

"See your point," Derek said, examining the balloon. Although in need of a complete re-rigging, it still seemed to be intact, "It looks like they made a safe landing. So where did they go?" Alan didn't reply, his mind trying to figure out the answer to this strange development. If these balloonists had made it down safely, why should they leave, rather than wait for rescue? The orchard and water supply of the Down couldn't have gone unnoticed, even to a group of inexperienced thrill-seekers. McEwen however, had different things in mind.

"Any chance of this thing being repaired? Perhaps we could get it flying again and use it to escape?" But Derek, who was inspecting the burners and fuel tanks, possibly thinking along the same lines, replied grimly, "Fuel tanks are empty; it doesn't look like anyone will be leaving here by balloon any time soon."

"What do you suppose happened to them?" asked Bigwig, also puzzled by the absence of bodies, "It doesn't look like any elil got them; there is no blood, no signs of a struggle…"

"All the more reason to persuade those proud layabouts back there that we must start the warren as soon as possible, so we can have a safe refuge in case of an emergency," Hazel said earning him a glare from Bigwig, who quickly shrugged it off, realising Hazel had a point. Finding nothing useful to salvage from the balloon, they turned and returned to the Down.

An hour later, the group were all gathered to begin the voting ceremony. Hazel, Bigwig, Holly and even Alan, who had finally given in to Derek's insistence and agreed to, at least, run for leadership, stood in line with his other competitors. Before joining the line however, he bent down next to Pipkin and whispered softly into the buck's ear, "Pipkin, as a friend, please don't vote for me; vote for Hazel. _He_ is the right leader for us." Pipkin nodded in understanding. Alan addressed the crowd.

"Welcome to the voting ceremony. To submit your vote, each of you will simply approach the candidate you wish to vote as Chief and carve a notch in the ground in front of him. After everyone has had his turn, the candidate with the most notches will become our new Chief. If there are no objections, please start the voting."

The voting took over an hour, as each voter took his time to make up his mind before approached his favourite candidate and submitting his vote. Hawkbit, who couldn't resist, tried to add a second vote for Bigwig without anyone noticing; although he hated the gruff Owsla veteran's stern attitude, he hated the prospect of been made to dig like a doe even more. However, a stern look from the veteran stopped him and he withdrew, sulking at the prospect of having a leader that would have him doing doe's work from dawn until dusk. Finally, all votes were submitted.

Derek, who had been appointed secretary by Alan, took a count, jotting down the numbers in his notepad. The results were as follows: From Pipkin, Fiver, Boxwood, Haystack, Silver and Violet, Hazel had received six votes. From Hawkbit, Dandelion, Acorn, Speedwell and Buckthorn, Bigwig had received five votes. From Derek, Strawberry, Nildrohein and McEwen, Alan had received four votes. Finally, from Clover, Blackberry and Bluebell, Holly had received three votes. Hazel was the winner.

After the figures were counted and confirmed, Alan addressed the crowd, "The voting ceremony is complete; Hazel-rah is now our new leader, the first Chief Rabbit of Watership Down!"

The group all cheered, despite the expressions of defeat on some of their faces - namely Bigwig and Holly's - as a reluctant and utterly embarrassed Hazel accepted his new position with grace and dignity. Unbeknownst to any of them however, only a few miles away, someone else was also on the verge of celebration…

Close to the burnt out ruins of Sandleford warren, a battered and bloodied man in shredded clothes, stood before the abandoned Cessna. Accompanying him were a sneering rabbit along with two other thickset rabbit henchmen. A living and breathing Russell Robbins and the Efrafan Wide Patrol had returned to the crash site. The group of four stared at the abandoned aircraft.

After miraculously surviving the hawk attack, Robbins had set off to return to Sandleford, to try and salvage the plane on his own, and escape. However, on the way, he had run into the same Efrafan Patrol Alan had encountered earlier. Seizing the opportunity for revenge, Robbins had made a bargain with Vervain, intent on getting an audition with his Chief, who could help him.

At first, the Efrafans simply thought of capturing him and taking him back to Efrafa as a prisoner, or kill him outright, but Vervain had relented after realising Robbins was presenting him the best change for revenge against the human that had humiliated him.

After making their deal between them, Robbins had led the group back to Sandleford, to retrieve the Cessna with the Efrafans' help, and then make for Efrafa rather than return to his home time. Although sceptical of his motives, the rabbits had kept to their bargain and followed. A day's journey had brought Robbins and his new associates back to where he had first set off.

"So this is your contraption that can _fly_?" sneered Vervain, staring at the seemingly lifeless hrududu, "Well, it doesn't look remotely capable of flying to me. If this turns out to be a waste of my time, I will see to it that you feel my wrath of the General himself…!" He glared at Robbins, disgusted that a mere human was giving them orders, despite having agreed to cooperate with him all the way. The evil man only smiled nastily, amused by Vervain's hollow threats.

"As far as I understand it, _you_ are bound to feel you master's wrath anyway if you return empty-handed. If you wish to escape that predicament, I suggest you maintain your cooperation; we both have similar goals and we can only achieve them while united." Aside from being cunning and ruthless, Robbins was proud of his skills in manipulating - or otherwise blackmailing - others into doing his dirty bidding. When he had encountered Vervain's squad, it hadn't taken him long to realise how they too harboured dark feelings for Alan and his friends, as well as having connections with a potentially powerful ally, and had seized the opportunity without a second thought.

"You promised us and our master handsome rewards for our services; they better no fall short of our expectations," said Vervain in a slightly calmer, yet arrogant tone. As much as he hated Robbins ordering them around, he knew all too well that the man was right; his original mission, to recapture a group of escapees from Efrafa had been futile and it was no secret that his Chief didn't appreciate failure. As far as Woundwort was concerned, failure was a sign of weakness, punishable by demotion, or even death. Despite being a fanatical loyalist to his insane master, Vervain's cowardice would often tempt him to use anything to his advantage, if it meant impressing Woundwort and keeping him out of trouble. Robbins apparently knew that too as he smiled coldly at Vervain.

"Captain Vervain, I believe we agreed on certain terms: You would help me and in return I would ensure your glorious return to Efrafa with a most useful ally to impress your Chief, as well as a unique opportunity for revenge against my former companion." Vervain's eyes flashed in anger at the mention of Alan.

"Revenge against that troublemaker has become my life's oath. Nobody ever humiliates me like that, let alone a lowly human. No offence," he added hastily, massaging his sore ears from where Alan had held him earlier, "I will never rest until I have seen him suffer and die!" Robbins smiled with satisfaction.

"We both share the same misery, friend. Have no fear; with me on your side, our revenge will soon be well at hand!" Although more or less settled with Vervain, Mallow and Avens still had serious doubts regarding Robbins' trustworthiness. After all, putting their trust in a talking human – supposedly their greatest enemy – wasn't something they saw every day.

"You still haven't explained ithe, what exactly do you want to meet the General for? For your sake, I hope you aren't thinking of infiltrating Efrafa through us, if you know what's good for you!" growled Mallow. Like most Owsla Efrafans, he hated humans with a passion but, like his squadron captain, he was willing to _bargain_ with one, if it suited his best interests. Robbins smiled maliciously.

"On the contrary friend, I have a proposition – or should I say, a gesture of good faith – for your Chief…in exchange for his cooperation of course," he said, thinking of the three cores of Project Black Inferno, which he had left back at Cowslip's warren, "I, alone, hold the secret to guarantee him the power of absolute ruler. Surely the great General Woundwort wouldn't turn down such a rare opportunity?"

"By the Black Rabbit of Inle, you can be sure he wouldn't turn down anything that might be a benefit for Efrafa. But, mark my words, should you attempt to double-cross him, the punishment is death!" said Avens, ending the debate, "So, what did you bring us all the way here for?"

"First, we have to try and get that damn plane out of there. If it still works, then we fly to Efrafa, so you may introduce me to your chief. And then, we can start planning our revenge! I hope Alan and his friends enjoy their newfound happiness while they still can." Vervain, Mallow and Avens smiled evilly.

After salvaging the block-and-tackle Derek had made from the chopper wreckage, Robbins secured one of the pulleys around the landing gear of the stuck aircraft and the other end around a tree. With the rabbits pulling on the cable, which was fastened around their bodies with harnesses, like mules, and Robbins manning the onboard controls, the plane slowly began to inch up the ramp of timber and onto dry ground.

Before long, the plane was on level ground again, looking all muddy, battered and its paint chipped, but fit to transport passengers on another journey. After clearing a runway in the field, the group of four were ready for take-off.

In the light of the sunset, Robbins and his new companions soared skywards, heading south towards Efrafa, where he hoped to secure an alliance with the most feared rabbit in this land and initiate his plan for revenge against Alan and his friends.

**Author's note:** Oh dear, Robbins is still alive! Didn't see that coming, did you? And Woundwort will make his appearance soon. Brace yourselves for an approaching storm! Enjoy and please review so I can update! Thank you.


	17. Chapter 17 Tomb of the Lost World

Hazel, surprisingly enough, quickly adjusted to his new role as a first-time Chief Rabbit. Immediately after assuming leadership, he gave the order that everyone healthy was to help with the digging if they wanted to eat. Many of the bucks, especially Hawkbit, had strongly protested, but finally gave in, after Bigwig threatened to discipline them for disobedience. And so, a group of sulking rabbits set to work, digging their new warren. Alan, despite still feeling rather unwell from his injuries, also insisted on helping, along with Derek and McEwen.

Since they had no shovels or pickaxes, or any digging tools of any kind, the three men had no choice but to improvise. Using some jagged stones, they were able to make simple hand hoes and spades; although entirely primitive, they served their purpose and soon, they were on their knees digging alongside the rabbits. Despite the does' reassurance that there was no danger, the men insisted on keeping the Cessna's oxygen bottles handy during work, along with their flashlights, which they carried in their utility belts taken from the chopper's survival kit.

Derek's knowledge of engineering also came in handy, when he suggested that they use mud to reinforce some of the thickest roots trailing down from the ceiling to the floor, into pillars, further reinforcing the integrity of the warren. Work went on for the rest of the day.

By the end of their first day on the Down, the main chamber was finished, the warren starting to take shape. Remembering from the story, Alan consulted with Hazel and they all agreed to christen it The Honeycomb. After the main chamber had been expended enough so they wouldn't need to spend another night out in the open, they decided to call it a day, so they could rest and eat.

While the rabbits went to silflay on the Down, the men headed for the orchard to harvest fruit for supper. Luck was with them, for the orchard held a rich variety of fruit including apples, berries, almonds, among other natural products, and all just for them. Alan didn't fail to notice that some of the fruit were of foreign origin but could now grow in this northern zone, since the climate was significantly warmer that what it had been in the 21st century, aside from the absence of most parasites and bacteria - or perhaps the flora had developed some superior natural immunity over the centuries? -, which allowed everything to flourish unattended in this wilderness without the need for farmers or their fertilisers.

After pocketing a couple of apples, he made his way down the hill, heading for the new canyon close to the southern foot of the Down. Even though it was at least a hundred feet deep, with vertical cliffs on both sides, like a trench, he was able to make his way down some old landslides that had piled up along the sides over the centuries, forming a vertical, yet accessible, incline all the way down to the water's edge.

Making his way down, he found a beautiful pebbled shore along the riverbank, shadowed by several willow trees. The opposite side had no shore; instead, two small waterfalls of unnamed tributaries from local streams poured over the edge of the cliffs, feeding the main stem of this new river that run along the bottom of the canyon. Although a significant change to the landscape Alan knew from his own time, it was absolutely stunning, not to mention providing an unlimited fresh water supply for their new colony.

Making himself comfortable under a tree at the water's edge, he settled down to eat. As he sat comfortably on the mossy rocks, enjoying the calm of the evening, he heard a familiar voice call his name. Turning, he saw Fiver, who had followed him, walking towards him. The buck, like him, was all drenched in dirt from the digging, turning his creamy brown fur a shade of terracotta. However, for once, he looked cheerful and happy, unlike the worrying expression he usually had when sensing imminent danger.

They sat, staring at the waterfalls running over the cliff, joining the unnamed river, which reflected the evening sunlight in rainbow colours, "You do feel sorry don't you?" asked Fiver, staring at Alan with pity.

"Hm, sorry? Sorry for what?" asked the man, in slight confusion, as he smiled back at his friend.

"That you'll never see your old home again."

"No, not really. My life was no longer worth living after my family died. Here, I have finally found happiness and so has Derek, even though he won't admit it. It's McEwen I feel sorry for; fate has separated him from his family forever and nothing can change that now." Although McEwen had quickly become a useful member of their little colony, Alan was all too aware of the pain of loss that resided within the former Royal Air Force pilot's heart. Out of the three of them, he was the only one who hardly believed they had found a paradise in this new world.

"Sometimes, you make me feel so selfish; you have done so much for us, yet _we_ can't repay you," Fiver said, causing Alan to stare back at him in surprise.

"Fiver, you have already repaid everything and more," he said calmly, "By accepting us among your people, even though we're humans, means a lot to me. Not to mention that we have brought enough trouble upon you already…" he said, hardly believing he deserved any of the praise he friends were giving him for bringing them here. Fiver, however, had exactly the opposite opinion as he stared back at his friend in surprise.

"But none of that was your fault! The destruction of Sandleford was beyond our control; and it was Robbins' decision to betray us for his own evil ends; you nearly lost your life trying to protect us from him. By Frith, you tend to gamble your life by literally playing Bobstones with the Black Rabbit at every turn!" the buck muttered in awe. The man, however, still couldn't help but feel responsible for his friends' mishaps.

"_I_ was the one targeted Fiver; you and Hazel nearly ended up in the crossfire because I foolishly asked you to tag along with me when I went to investigate. I should have known better than do something so careless…_again_. And I should have been watching out for Pimpernel, when I knew that Cowslip's warren was dangerous… I am so sorry I put your lives in danger…"

"There is nothing to be sorry for Alan," Fiver insisted reassuringly, "It was _our_ choice to follow you into danger. Besides, it's only thanks to you that some of us are still here at all; my brother would have been sharing Pimpernel's fate, and I would have become a family feast for that homba's young if you hadn't come. Pipkin, Violet and Bigwig also owe their lives to you. Having you among us is an advantage that we would never turn away, regardless if you are a human or not. If anything, this prejudice that rabbits have held against humans is apparently nothing but an appalling mistake of our ancestors." Alan felt touched as he reached out and scratched the spot between Fiver's ears, feeling through his soft brown fur.

"You know Fiver, aside from Derek, I have never shared such a close friendship with anyone before. All my life, I have watched all my beloved ones go, one after another; my parents, my brother, my wife, my daughter, everyone…" Fiver felt touched.

"But you will always have us Alan. You're one of us now." Alan smiled, scratching his friend's head again in silent fondness, as Fiver nuzzled close to him. Staring at the crystal-clear water, Alan suddenly came up with an idea for some fun. Taking off his shoes and shirt, he approached the water's edge.

"Alan, wh…what are you doing?" asked the young rabbit wearily, as he saw his friend about to take the plunge.

"Taking a swim. Come on, after all that dirty work you could use a good bath yourself," Alan said as he playfully picked up the rabbit by the middle and marched towards the river. Fiver looked rather uneasy at the prospect of going into the water.

"Alan, rabbits generally try to avoid water and I don't know if it's safe…Aaaaaghhh…!"

Ignoring him, Alan suddenly dove into the water, taking the seer rabbit with him. The two resurfaced; Alan chuckled in amusement at the sight of a soaked and rather irritated Fiver, yet he could see laughter in the rabbit's eyes. However, the sound of laughter came from the shore; turning, they saw Pipkin, who had followed Fiver, sniggering at the sight of his two friends playing in the water. Alan and Fiver looked mischievously at each other, before suddenly lunging forward and tackling Pipkin into the water as well.

"Come on Hlao, you had it coming," chuckled Fiver as Alan playfully tickled Pipkin in the stomach, causing the dwarf rabbit to start thrashing around in a fit of giggling, his waterphobia entirely forgotten. Hearing their laughter, the rest of the group soon joined in the fun, all their hardships and cares forgotten.

That night, the small colony of men and rabbits drifted off to sleep in the semi-complete Honeycomb. For the first time in days, the group enjoyed a peaceful night under the safety of a roof. Outside, the Aurora, with its stunning rainbow colours, lit up the night sky, like a transparent curtain floating in mid-air.

The following morning, work continued on schedule. By midday, they had successfully managed to extend the warren deeper into the Down, where the sleeping quarters would be; a total of five burrows – each big enough to comfortably accommodate four occupants - were dug, connected by a central aisle. The men were given one for their own use, where they could also store their meagre belongings.

Now that they had established permanent accommodation, Derek and Alan had started making plans of how to equip their new home with as many modern conveniences as they knew how. Although it went without saying that they wouldn't be indulging in the luxuries of 21st century civilisation - at least not for a long time to come - they were determined to provide all the necessities of making their new life bearable.

Alan's broad knowledge of plants and animals, combined with Derek's knowledge of engineering and craftsmanship, went hand-in-hand in helping them draw up some general plans on how to construct everything they would need. Using timber and rope fashioned from dry weeds and plant fibres, they could make some cots with straw bedding, as well as some stools, a table, and racks, to furnish their accommodation. Earthenware bowls with suet from any game they caught could be used to make lamps for light, since they couldn't rely on their diminishing battery-powered flashlights forever.

Alan had also suggested that they make some wooden hoes and rakes, to plough a field and plant crops using seedlings gathered from the surrounding environment. This would supply them with ample food, which they could stockpile for the coming winter, using one of Alan's techniques of drying and preserving. Suet extracted from game, mixed with ash, would be used to make soap, and herbs would be used for medicines, after the supplies from the chopper were used up. Goatskins would be used to make clothing after their original clothes disintegrated.

By using the precious contents of the chopper's survival kit, and whatever raw materials they could acquire, they hoped to make a good start with their endeavours. Within a few years, after they had made some progress, they could slowly move on to even greater projects; maybe someday, they could even develop the means of providing electricity and all other luxuries of civilisation they had once known.

The two scientists had carefully noted down all their available resources and how they could use them, as well as everything they lacked, in preparation for their long task of starting civilisation anew. Their next accomplishment, following their digging tools, was a sundial made from a straight staff planted upright in a clearing, with stones placed in different time-marking positions around it, intercepting its shifting shadow. This would help them keep track of time after their watches stopped. Although crude, it would serve its purpose until they could develop all the necessary tools and skill to build a working mechanical clock.

Alan had also suggested that they should start making plans of sending out an expedition to explore their new territory, by following the new river in the new ravine all the way down to the coast. However, it was decided that all this would have to wait until after the warren was finished.

The extension of the burrows proved to be more difficult than originally anticipated; as it turned out, the soil was all rocky and hard, only a few feet below the surface, making digging slow and difficult. The does were tempted to divert the digging in another direction but with only a little more left to go, they decided to take their time and finish the task, rather than start over.

At noon, they stopped to rest and eat; while the men helped themselves to water, to cool off and squash their burning thirst from slaving away all morning, while the rabbits went outside to silflay. During their rest period, Buckthorn challenged Hawkbit to a game of Bobstones in the Honeycomb.

"Bobstone guess is… two," said Buckthorn looking at Hawkbit straight in the eyes, as if trying to read his competitor's mind. The grey-furred held back a groan of frustration as he swiftly rubbed his paw against the ground before calmly removing both paws, revealing only one small stone beneath. There was an instant of silence before his fans started cheering, causing him to smile smugly.

"I win!" he chanted smugly, about to announce himself as the new Bobstones champion, but Buckthorn, who knew Hawkbit well enough, was suspicious.

"What were you trying to bury with your paw?" he asked sharply, "Stand aside Hawkbit! Let me see!"

"Hey, I am not hiding anything…!" Hawkbit stammered, but Buckthorn shoved him roughly aside and felt the ground where Hawkbit had been standing. It didn't take him long to find the stone that Hawkbit had buried at the last second by rubbing his paw, in a desperate attempt to win the game. Buckthorn was furious.

"Cheater!" he shouted, as he lunged himself at Hawkbit, looking ready to pound him to a pulp, "You flea-infested, conning, dirty rotter! I'll cuff the living daylights out of you I will…!" The two tumbled backwards, down into the unfinished back burrows they had been digging earlier. Speedwell raised his eyebrows in silent exasperation.

"Come on, let's go save Hawkbit's before my brother finishes damaging his already mangy pelt," he said in a rather amused tone as they listened to his twin continue beating Hawkbit black and blue. Although tempted to leave the two rabbits to their fight, they didn't need those two ruining the freshly dug burrow, which hadn't been reinforced yet, by causing a cave-in.

They all crowded into the burrow, struggling to separate Buckthorn and Hawkbit. Unfortunately, in the midst of the struggle, nobody noticed the burrow floor start to sag under their weight, much like a carpet covering a hidden pit…

Suddenly, the burrow floor disintegrated like a sheet of glass, revealing the opening to a pitch-black hole right beneath their feet. They all plummeted straight into the depths of a deep shaft, carried along by the waterfall of loose earth and debris pouring into the void from above. Before they knew what was happening, with a painful thud, their fall was broken as quickly as it had begun. They found themselves engulfed in complete darkness, amidst the debris of the burrow floor that had plummeted down with them. As they struggled blindly to untangle themselves from each other, Alan managed to strike a match, which gave off enough light to illuminate the scene.

They were inside, what appeared to be, a deep vertical shaft. However, it wasn't a natural formation; the walls were artificial, made of ancient looking, crumbling concrete, with rusting tracks running up the walls on opposite sides. With a gasp of surprise, Alan realised they were inside an _elevator shaft_, penetrating deep into the interior of the Down. They were standing on the crushed, rusted cab, which had been stationed at the top of the shaft, supporting the burrow floor they had been digging. Their excessive weight had caused it to give way from its corroded supports, sending them all plummeting to the bottom, before it had jammed on its buckled rails, halting their, otherwise deadly, descent. Then Alan's match went out and the darkness engulfed them again.

"Is anybody hurt? Where are we?" called Hazel, as Derek and McEwen drew their flashlights from their utility belts and lit them, allowing them to get a better look at their entrapment.

"It looks like some sort of…subterranean entrance to someplace," McEwen said, trying to make out anything familiar in the architecture. The shaft was square, about 30ft by 20, and at least 300 deep, probably reaching all the way into the bowels of the Down. The place resembled a mineshaft, which seemed strange because there had never been any mines in the area, as the ground in that part of the country wasn't rich in coal. Above them, they could see a small patch of light the size of Alan's exposed thumb, shining through the hole they had just fallen through. But it was very high and the shaft was completely vertical, making it impossible to climb back up. They were trapped.

"Wonderful, just wonderful," Alan muttered, looking helplessly around at their entrapment. It was impossible to deny it; they were buried alive with the prospect of dying from the tortures of hunger and thirst. And unfortunately, this time there was no help coming. Only Boxwood and Haystack were still up there, probably outside at silflay; but even if they could somehow get their attention, how could they help them?

"So this is our fate; to die buried under our own warren. We come all this way…only to meet our own _demise_ here," Hawkbit groaned for the one-hundredth time, striding around their live tomb aimlessly. Several hours had passed as the group sat in silent misery, coming to terms with their grim fate. He rounded on Buckthorn, "You clumsy idiot! If you hadn't pushed me into that burrow, we wouldn't be in this mess now!" Buckthorn glared back at Hawkbit, "Well, if _you_ hadn't tried to cheat, this wouldn't have happened in the first place! Happy?"

"It's not Buckthorn's fault, no more than it is yours, Hawkbit," Fiver broke in, trying to calm down the desperate rabbit, "How were we supposed to know about this place…?" Hawkbit however, scared beyond any sensible reasoning, rounded on Fiver.

"What would you know Fiver, oh great mystic visionary?" retorted the grey-furred with a mock sneer, having lost it completely in his fear and anger, "_You_ are the one suppose to sense danger and warn us beforehand; instead, your visions either come too late or they bring more trouble upon us. So get lost, you troublesome curse…!" The others gasped in shock and outrage.

"You'll lose your teeth if you don't shut up Hawkbit!" hissed Alan at Hawkbit in warning, who instantly fell silent, probably realising he had gone too far, but the damage was done. Fiver gasped in shock, his ears drooping in shame and humiliation, before he turned and fled to the farthest corner of the shaft, away from the rest of the group, behind a pile of fallen debris and out of sight. Hazel rounded on Hawkbit, looking more furious than Alan had ever seen him before. It was scary; his eyes were red with anger, his fur bristling, and his voice icy and menacing.

"I've always put up with your mouth Hawkbit, but Frith help me, right now I would like nothing better than to claw your eyes out for hurting my brother's feelings like that. But currently, I have to see if I can repair the damage you've caused. I expect Fiver to receive an apology from you soon, if you know what's good for you!" Without another word he turned and headed off to where Fiver had fled. Alan had already caught up with Fiver and was trying in vain to comfort the distraught rabbit, huddled under the wreckage.

"Come on Fiver, Hawkbit didn't mean what he said. He is just terrified and not thinking straight, that's all," Alan said calmly, hoping to reassure his little friend, but to no avail.

"And it's my fault we are trapped down here in the first place," Fiver sobbed, looking utterly heartbroken, "Hawkbit is right; it's my _visions_ that get us into trouble at every turn. Sandleford's destruction, Pipkin nearly drowning, and you almost getting killed… Please, I need to remain as far away from all of you as possible. Perhaps my visions won't drag you into any further trouble if I stay away."

"Fiver, don't talk like that! Your visions don't cause anything to happen. They are simply warnings of imminent danger…" Alan insisted but the young buck was beyond reasoning.

"Hrairoo, listen to me please," Hazel said softly, who had caught up with them, "You told Alan the other day, down by the river, to stop blaming himself for all the hardships we had to endure since leaving Sandleford…" Unfortunately, this only seemed to upset Fiver even more.

"Only because he has risked so much for us, while I only bring more trouble our way, trouble that you are all forced to endure because of _me_! Only he has the sympathy not to admit the truth about what a menace I am… I am just as much a burden to him, just like I am to the rest of you!" Hazel, however, calmly continued trying to reason with him, using a different approach.

"Indeed, Alan has done more than enough to earn our undying gratitude forever. However, he couldn't have done it without you, little brother…" Thinking that they were only mocking him with false praise, Fiver exploded.

"FRITH OF INLE, HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT? Just leave me alone, Hazel! Please, just go away…" Hazel looked utterly hurt by his own brother dismissing him, but Alan wasn't giving up yet.

"And who confirmed my suspicion about Sandleford's destruction?" he asked hotly, "And Cowslip's warren? If you hadn't sensed the danger to confirm my suspicions, I wouldn't have made us all leave, and those savages would have had us! Can't you see Fiver? Without your visions to guide us, we would be helpless; even my knowledge of your life's story is of little use anymore. The further we go, the more the timeline changes; soon, my knowledge will be useless and only your visions will be left to guide us." Although Fiver seemed to perk up slightly at Alan's words, he still looked uncertain.

"But how do you know that my visions don't _make_ things happen?" he persisted, but finally looking at Alan and Hazel. Alan seemed to be lost for words at this point and he knew it was no use lying to his long eared friend. Then he remembered a philosophical message told to El-ahrairah by the Black Rabbit of Inle in the story of _Watership Down_, which could hopefully answer Fiver's question.

"'There is not a day or night that a doe offers her life for her kittens or an honest captain of Owsla his life for his chief. But there is no bargain; what is, is what must be,'" he quoted, causing both rabbits to stare at him in amazement, "Where did you hear that?"

"The Black Rabbit of Inle recited these words to El-ahrairah when he offered up his life for the safety of his people," Alan explained as he turned back to Fiver, "Fiver, your visions simply _show_ us things that are _bound_ to happen. It is _fate_ that determines the outcome; your visions have absolutely no control over our destiny, no more that we do; I couldn't prevent Sandleford's destruction, regardless of my knowledge of the future. You have no right to blame yourself for anything that comes our way; the best we can do is stand our ground against any challenge that fate throws at us and give it our best shot."

This seemed to finally get through to Fiver as he finally came out of the shadows where he had been hiding. He shot Alan a smile, who returned it; his friend had finally given him the nudge he needed to snap him back to his senses, "Thank you Alan. I needed that."

"Anytime, lad. Come on, let's get back to the others and see what we can…" He suddenly stopped in mid- sentence, as he noticed something. Shining his flashlight into the shadows where Fiver had been hiding, he saw something that sent his heart racing: a sealed steel door, leading into some chamber behind the shaft wall. By a complete stroke of luck, when the cab had broken loose and plummeted down the shaft, it had stopped level with the entrance that led into this subterranean complex! And, without realising it, it had been Fiver who had led them to this possible escape route, which they would have otherwise overlooked, leaving them to die a most ironic death.

"See what I mean Fiver? See why we really need you? I believe you have just shown us the way out!" The rabbits stared back at Alan in utter confusion, before turning to stare at the sealed door as well, "Go get the others, quickly!" Without another word, he started heaving away the rusted, twisted girders and h-section of the wrecked cab, anxious to get to that door. In an instant, he was joined by the rest of his companions, as they continued shoving piles of loose earth and debris out of the way, and soon had cleared the entrance from top to bottom, revealing a set of hydraulic-powered, slide doors, with an airtight seal.

Although normally operated electrically, the door was fitted with an override lever in a socket. But when they tried it, they found the hydraulic mechanism had jammed over the centuries from corrosion and wouldn't budge. Picking up a chunk of broken h-section and a stone, the men tried hammering on the rusted lever but only succeeded in snapping it off altogether. Alan even tried to pry the double-doors apart by hand, using his knife but the seal was too tight.

"It's no use. Only a powerful explosion can get it open." The others sighed in silent, miserable defeat until a smiling Derek took out their last stick of dynamite from his utility belt, which he had been saving, following their escape from the savage village.

"You're a bloody miracle-worker Deke, you know that? With that stick of dynamite, we should force our way out of here in no time. Let's get to work." Using their last remaining length of duct tape Derek had in his pocket, they taped the stick lengthwise across the doors, directly over the crack in the middle, where the explosion could crack the airtight seal. Soon everything was set; a small flame was all that was needed to blast the doors open, hopefully to reveal an escape route on the other side. But as Alan took out his matchbox, he discovered, to his utmost horror, he only had two matches left, having spent most of the box throughout their journey. And, to make matters worse, there was a strong draft coming from the opening above, making it difficult to keep a match burning, and even McEwen had left his lighter up top. "This better work or else we are doomed."

He struck the first match, which instantly went out from the updraft. Cursing in frustration, he struck the last one, carefully holding his hand close to the dimming flame to shield it. Luckily he was able to stretch the life of the flame with a small scrap of paper he had found in his pocket; holding the burning paper close to the fuse, it finally lit just before the burning paper went out.

"That's it; fuse is burning. Everybody get clear!" Quickly scampering away, they all took cover behind a safety barrier they had made for this purpose using piled-up earth and debris at the furthest end of the shaft, bracing for the explosion. The seconds ticked by…

Suddenly, the charge went; the force of the explosion shook the whole shaft, causing more debris to come crashing down, nearly crushing them in the process. In an instant, it was over; a cloud of smoke and dust marked the aftermath of the explosion. Then suddenly, they felt the floor start to sag beneath their feet again; the explosion had shaken the elevator cab loose, which was about to resume its deadly plummet at any second.

"Run for it! This thing is about to give way!"

Hurryingly pulling themselves out from all the freshly loosened earth and debris, they hurried back to the airtight doors, which had been blasted apart, revealing another chamber beyond. Although it hadn't been powerful enough to knock the doors off their frame, it had penetrated the airtight seal, so this time, they had no problem prying them open.

Coughing and spluttering, they climbed over the wreckage and into a small room beyond, finding another set of sealed doors at the opposite end. No sooner had they stepped out of the shaft, than the ruined elevator finally gave way and resumed its plummet, all the way to the bottom of the shaft; they heard the crash of the impact reverberating. Taking a moment to catch their breaths, they turned to look at their new surroundings.

The chamber they had entered seemed to be some sort of hanger, housing a variety of environment suits, similar to those used in hazardous environments. Aside from some dust, the room, in contrast to the shaft, had suffered almost no decay over the centuries, with everything looking good as new, well preserved in this airtight, bone-dry environment. By being sealed airtight, the effects of time had ceased inside, leaving the place literally frozen in time, like the interior of an ancient Egyptian tomb.

"What is this place?" Hazel asked, as, both humans and rabbits alike, looked around curiously, the rabbits sniffing at all the unfamiliar scents that filled the ancient, stale air, which hadn't been breathed by any living being for centuries, "A _human warren_?"

"I don't know. Let's move on and see what's behind that other door." They crossed over to the second doorway; in contrast to the elevator entrance, this one had sustained no corrosion, the steel gleaming like new in their torchlight, and the manual override worked easily. But as they broke the pressurisation, some stale air, infested with a strong smell of kernels, hissed out of the opened seal. They all froze, wincing at the off-putting odour.

"What is that?" asked Derek, sniffing the bad air, "It smells like…bitter almonds…"

"Well, I don't know anything good for you that smells like that. Hold on a second," Alan said suspiciously, moving his nose closer to the crack in the doorframe and taking another whiff, tasting the air. In an instant, he had turned back to the others, looking alarmed.

"Cyanide… Poisonous gas! Get away from that damn door!" he hissed as he slid the door shut again, blocking out the poisonous gas, "We can't go on through there. If that place is airtight, then it's probably a gas chamber from top to bottom. We'd be dead in minutes if we breathe that stuff."

"But there is no other way forward," Bigwig said, looking around the small room, "And we can't go back the way we came. We can't just stay here…" Alan's mind instantly turned to the oxygen bottles in their utility belts. Should they take their chances? But what good were they, with only five or six minutes of air each? It could take hours to find another way out through that place. And there was no way they could split such a small amount between the eighteen of them…

"How about if we use these rebreathers?" McEwen suggested, picking up one of the full-face masks on the dusty racks, wiping the dust off the faceplate, and trying it on, "They still seem to be in workable condition."

"Well, this is all very well for _you_," Hawkbit said, not missing his usual sarcastic demeanour, "What about _us_?" Alan realised Hawkbit had a point; a quick glance confirmed that these masks, although still good as new, were not designed to be fitted on a_ rabbit's_ furry, chubby face, even human-sized. But Derek, who had also been examining the masks carefully, spoke up.

"I think I have an idea. These masks can be disassembled by hand. How about we remove the charcoal filters from the rebreather circuit and wrap them in some cloth, to improvise _new_ masks that will fit you?" Although Alan wanted to point out it was dangerous, he realised they had no choice, unless they wanted to be stuck down here forever.

"All right, it's worth a shot. Deke, take off your jumper; the woollen fabric is ideal for the masks." Using his knife, he cut the fuming Derek's jumper into sixteen strips of equal length and wrapped the doughnut-shaped filters inside them; these in turn were secured firmly with duct-tape, so they wouldn't slip out of place when worn; with the woollen 'mouthpieces' pressed firmly against their mouths and noses, and the two ends of the strips tied securely in a knot around their heads, making them look like Wild West bandits, the rabbits were soon fitted with their modified masks, while the men donned three of the intact rebreathers instead.

After some experimenting and adjustments, to make sure the equipment worked properly, everyone was ready to face the gas challenge beyond the door. Alan crossed to the door and slid it open once again. The invisible, deadly gas poured out, engulfing them, but luckily the improvised masks, as well as the rebreathers, did their job of allowing the air to pass through with each breath, but absorbing the cyanide with their carbon-potash filters.

They stepped into the next chamber and found themselves on the edge of a dark passage. The architecture reminded Alan of a Cold War era fallout shelter: concrete walls, lined with porcelain tilling, steel handrails, piping, and long-extinguished fluorescent lights decorated the walls and ceiling. The grillwork floor was thick with grey dust, undoubtedly undisturbed for a long time.

They set off down the passage, the men lighting the way with their flashlights. A formidable, aerie darkness and deathly silence filled the place. Ascending a short flight of stairs, they came to a vast, dome-shaped atrium. At least forty feet high and a hundred in diameter, with a domed ceiling, supported by a wrought steel framework, the atrium seemed to be the centre of the facility, with many doors and passages leading off into other sections of this immense, underground complex. Scattered glass shards and ragged wiring hung from the framework, which were the remains of a luminous glass dome, similar to a planetarium screen, which had long since been shattered from some unknown cause. It now lay in smashed fragments all over the atrium floor, covered in the dust of the ages.

In the centre of the atrium, on an elevated platform, supported by two cross-wise walkways, was a sphere-like structure with large observation windows facing out into the atrium. The elevated walkways trailing away from it led to another circular walkway running along the rim of the dome. Glancing at a map of the structure on a nearby wall, Alan realised it was the control centre of the facility; the most likely place to learn the secrets of this facility.

"Let's make for that control room. Perhaps we can find a way to restore power and recycle the air so we can get these masks off," he said, his voice muffled from the mask on his face. Making their way up a spiral staircase and onto the grillwork balcony surrounding the structure, they came to an armoured glass door, spelling in red letters, 'CONTROL ROOM; AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY!' Ignoring the regulations warning, Alan pushed the door open and entered, brushing away lengths of dusty cobwebs as he went.

The control room was a large, circular room with many different computer stations and control panels, each marked for its purpose: power control, engineering and recyclers, communications and imaging, surveillance and security. In the centre of the room stood a massive glass cabinet, housing, what appeared to be, a central computer unit of some highly advanced futuristic technology, to which all the control stations were apparently linked. Each station was fitted with two rotary chairs, bolted to the floor, where the operators once sat. However, all this state-of-the-art equipment now sat dusty and dead, utterly useless without electricity.

A row of windows circled the perimeter of the elevated room, allowing a good view of the atrium below, like a watchtower. Alan didn't fail to notice that many of those windows sported marks from, what appeared to have been, rapid gunfire, judging by the many bullet holes punctured all over the place, in addition to the mess of papers, cables, books scattered about.

Cautiously, they crowded into the room, looking around curiously. The rabbits were staring open-mouthed at this strange and impressive place, completely unfamiliar to them. Alan scanned the control panels on the engineer's station until he found the one they needed: 'EMERGENCY AIR RECYCLING AND EXHAUST.' But when he tried flipping the switch, nothing happened; the power – auxiliary and all - was out so all the equipment was dead.

"Damn," he cursed in frustration, "We need power to get this thing running…" But Derek, who had been studying a schematic he had found on the floor, his engineering instincts in action, turned to another panel. On it were two hazard signs, one of high voltage and the other of radiation hazard. Beneath were two large knobs – one for the main power feed, the other for auxiliary -, as well as three gauges displaying the status of a radioisotope thermoelectric generator that was linked to the panel: one for temperature level, one for coolant and one for power. Above the panel was an inscription stamped in red: 'GENERATOR START-UP'.

"Here's the solution: according to these gauges, the atomic core of the generator is still hot, so it can't be completely exhausted. A radioisotope generator, when left hibernating, can retain its ginger for years and doesn't require a jump-start; that's why such pricey technology has always been popular with the Space Program. Maybe we can get it back on-line and restore power to the systems." He reached out to hit the switch.

"Hey, you don't want to touch that Dr Shaw!" hissed McEwen in warning, grabbing the engineer's outstretched arm, "I'd be surprised if that old piece of junk doesn't become a fireball the instant you flip that switch." Alan however, ignored him and turned to Derek.

"Do it Deke!" he said, "We have no choice; we need breathable air and light if we are to find a way out of here." Derek however, seemed put-off by McEwen's warning, probably thinking along the same lines as the pilot.

"I hope you realise that we are taking an enormous risk. McEwen is right; old nuclear devices can become unstable and go into meltdown when started. Needn't I say what could happen if the lead shielding is even slightly penetrated," said Derek, the dire consequences of a malfunction occurring in the generator's fusion core, not having gone amiss, "Let's hope the engineers who built this place were well worth their salt." Taking a deep breath, he pressed the knob to start up the generator. Everyone held their breaths.

For a few seconds nothing happened and Alan was beginning to think that the generator might be completely depleted after all; then suddenly, a faint humming noise sounded throughout the dark facility, followed by the blinking of lights and electrical equipment springing back to life. This lasted only a few seconds before the current stabilised and there was only silence, except for the humming and beeping of the revived computers in the control room. A screen on the engineer's station lit up, displaying the system status, interrupted every few seconds by flashes of illegible binary code, caused by centuries worth of glitches and errors:

SYSTEM STATUS:

REBOOTING SYSTEM…

INITIATING FULL SYSTEMS CHECK

WARNING

POWER SYSTEM ON RESERVE MODE

AUXILIARY SYSTEMS ONLY

Alan wasted no time congratulating Derek; he reached out and activated the emergency air filtration system. They could hear the fans in the ventilation ducts suck up the contaminated air into the filters and the atmosphere slowly begin to clear from the cyanide.

Within seconds, the restored generator had revived more systems, causing the control room to light up like a giant pinball machine gone haywire, with all the computers rising from their centuries-long hibernation. The rabbits, utterly overwhelmed by this alien phenomenon, were strutting around nervously, their eyes wide with amazement; they had already seen their fair share of surprises since leaving their old warren, but this 'magical' place went beyond everyone's imagination. The men kept monitoring the atmosphere analysis indicator on the computer, watching the trace gas level slowly drop and the oxygen level return to normal.

ENVIRONMENT STATUS:

ATMOSPHERE:

N2: 76% / O2: 19% / CO2: 2% / TRACE GASES: 1%

HUMIDITY: 1% / TEMPERATURE: 23 Celsius

Cautiously removing his own mask first, motioning to the others to keep theirs on, in case the filtration system hadn't worked, he tasted the air again. Although he found it breathable, it was still contaminated with an awful stench that made him gag; a horrible smell of death and decay, much like an unattended mausoleum. As he scanned the room for the source, he spotted a pair of legs lying behind one of the stations. They belonged to a figure lying face down on the floor. Alan approached and, cringing in disgust at the sight, turned the figure over with the tip of his shoe. Derek, right behind him drew in his breath. They had found the ancient, mummified remains of a man.

It wasn't a pretty sight; the corpse was all shrivelled up, its fluids long evaporated, the skin having turned a shade of brown from the effects of anaerobic bacteria. The dead man was dressed in a khaki military outfit, which was shredded and stained with dry blood from old wounds. His left leg stuck out at an odd angle, the tibia having been shattered by some blunt blow it seemed. His dirty grey hair and beard still remained attached to his shrunken face, the eye sockets hollow and empty, the flesh viciously shredded, so that bare, crushed bone was visible in places. Beside him lay a shattered gas mask, similar to those they had found back in the airlock, along with a half-empty revolver that lay a short distance away, testifying to some struggle he had apparently lost, probably at the expense of his own life.

Although his face was deformed beyond recognition, the gold tooth in his upper jaw as well as the gold watch on his wrist and the ruby ring on his finger, looked somewhat familiar to Alan…

"Frith of Inle, what happened to his face?" asked Holly, with a sharp intake of breath, as he stared down at the mutilated, dried-up corpse.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say he was attacked by someone…or something," Alan said, cringing at the sight of the dead man's mutilated face, with his grouched-out eyes and crushed cheekbones, "Look at all that damage to the soft tissue; deep gashes, penetrating all the way down into the skull. No human being can cause such a vicious mauling, not even a psychopath with a clawed knuckleduster. It looks like more like the work of a wild animal or something…Wait, what's this?"

Beside the corpse, on the station desk-, which they recognised as the facility's log and reference database - was a hermitically sealed metal case, resembling an armoured briefcase; a dried up handprint of blood was visible on the handle, almost as if the last person who had held it had been bleeding. As Alan examined the case, he saw a set of initials engraved across the top:

**C.S.D.**

The initials instantly rang a bell in Alan's memory; turning back to the body, he unfastened the familiar identification dog tag, worn by all personnel in military installations, from around the figure's neck, and brought it close to a nearby desk lamp for a closer look. Scrapping the dry blood off the miniature lettering with his fingernails, he read the figure's full identity out loud. The name nearly took his breath away; Derek gasped in surprise too.

"My God… I _did_ know this fellow. It's none other than my old colleague, Dr Cole Drake himself!"

**Author's note:** The end of chapter 17. I can't believe how far I've gotten. The scene with the group trapped underground was inspired from _Tales from Watership Down_, in the chapter with Sandwort. The scene with Alan comforting Fiver was inspired from 'The Cross Bearer', chapter 19. Do enjoy and please review so I can update faster! Coming up next, the explanation of what happened to humanity.


	18. Chapter 18 Apocalypse and Pandora

Alan stared dumbstruck at his old colleague's shrivelled corpse for a few minutes. So this was where Dr Drake had met his demise. For an instant, Alan flashed back to the downed balloon they had found, thinking that maybe Drake had time-jumped like they had but then realised it couldn't be; his colleague's body looked ancient, implying that he had been dead for centuries, the airtight environment of this underground facility having slowed down the decomposition of the corpse. So, if he had died sometime back in the 21st century, then maybe he had known what had caused the end of mankind? Perhaps the answer to all this mystery was also hidden down here with him?

Turning to the station where Drake had apparently been working at the moment of his death, they realised it was the facility's database, where the key personnel kept any classified information, including a visual log of everything that happened here…maybe.

"I think we have something here lads," Alan said, as he wiped the central screen clear of dust, revealing an icon of commands on screen:

**HAB-01**

DATABASE MENU ACCESS:

VISUAL/AUDIO LOG

PERSONNEL LIST

MANIFESTS

COMMUNICATIONS LOG

BACKUP RECORDER

But when he tried accessing the database log, they got nothing but a disappointing message in red:

ERROR 404:

NO READABLE DATA FOUND

DATABASE INACCESSIBLE DUE TO HARDWARE MULFUNCTION

Turning to look at a large glass cube atop the station console, which housed the data drives, they found the housing shattered, along with its precious contents, almost as if someone – or something - had deliberately smashed it with a sledgehammer, perhaps in a desperate effort to destroy evidence meant for them to find. But why would someone do that? Baffled, he turned to the sealed metal case on the desk instead.

Using his knife, he tried to pry the cover open, but it held firm. Turning back to the dead man's dog tag, he saw a small key strung on the chain alongside the tag. Carefully inserting it in the lock on the box, it worked, and the case opened easily. Inside was an assortment of documents, photographs, a world atlas, several laboratory ledgers, and a journal with Drake's handwriting on its pages. Finally, there was some kind of data cartridge with the words _HAB-01 DATA RECOVERY _written on it, which was stained with a bloody handprint, undoubtedly Drake's. Alan realised it had to be the _backup_ of the database, which had escaped destruction, and probably containing a priceless source of information.

Turning back to the database station, his suspicions were instantly confirmed; beside the shattered drive cube was an open armoured slot, from where the data cartridge had apparently been extracted. Judging from the bloody handprints staining the open cover, Drake must have struggled to retrieve it on the brink of death and managed to seal it in his armoured case before dying. What kind of secrets could this thing contain, which were worth _dying_ over? Inserting it back into its housing, Alan saw the database spring back to life. Staring back at the screen, he saw the computer had automatically initiated a drive scan, cleaning up whatever portions of the video log were still readable.

"What are you doing?" asked Pipkin, staring in amazement at the dancing graphics on the screen, as Alan tapped the dusty keys on the keyboard, trying to figure out how this futuristic technology worked. Despite some remarkable advances, including a fully 3-D screen, thin as a sheet of paper, and a quartz touch-keyboard, the controls weren't very different from their 21st century counterpart, making it easy to use.

"This database contains a video log the base commander kept – remember the moving and talking pictures we use to tell stories I told you about?" he said, seeing Pipkin's blank expression. No doubt the term 'video log' had no more meaning to these rabbits than the electricity that made this magical place they were standing in come to life did.

The contents of the database were, by rule, registered as classified military property and encrypted, accessible only by a series of passwords. Finally, after some trial and error, they were able to access the files. The data package contained a number of video recordings in a list, the earliest one dating back to 2025. Although many of them were marked as damaged and unreadable, with only approximately one in ten still intact, it would suffice. Derek hit the execute key and a full-screen video icon appeared as the playback started, revealing a distorted, yet viewable recording, interrupted by the occasional gap of bare binary code, every time the computer encountered an error in the recording.

The first entry was footage taken out of an old news broadcast, in which, what appeared to be, an unknown future Prime Minister of the UK, standing outside the Houses of Parliament in London, was making an urgent announcement. With Derek recording everything that was being played on the screen into his cell phone, in case it couldn't be played again, they all quietened down to listen.

"_People of the United Kingdom, it is my grave duty to make this announcement to you today. I beg you all to listen carefully, for this is a matter of life or death - your lives, the lives of everyone on Earth… A horrific discovery has been made: two new heavenly bodies travelling in a trajectory that will eventually bring them into direct contact with the Earth… One is an uncharted rogue planet about the size of the Earth and the other its orbiting satellite with a diameter of about eleven miles… Both these bodies are entering our solar system, probably to destroy the Earth…." _

"…_The first solar body, named Apocalypse, is expected to pass very close so its gravitational pull will influence the tides and tectonic plates, causing mass destruction; oceans will be torn from their depths and sweep hundreds of miles inland, washing away everything in their paths… There will be catastrophic earthquakes and massive volcanic eruptions, which will add to the devastation… Unfortunately, the passing of the first body will only be the beginning of the end; shortly thereafter, the smaller body, Pandora will slingshot around the sun and finally come into direct collision with the Earth, unleashing a terminal apocalypse… All we can do now is pray and hope…" _

With that the recording ended. A shaken Alan turned to his companions, only to see them wearing expressions of absolute horror on their faces; even the rabbits, although obviously ignorant of all the scientific concepts described, still fully grasped the peril of the situation. Turning back to the database, he activated the next entry; as he had expected, the news was of the worst sort.

"_We can no longer postpone the inevitable; the calculations on Apocalypse and Pandora have been carefully analysed and there is no error. The effect of the passing of the first body will be felt at precisely 11:49am Greenwich time on October 14th 2027, as it passes the Earth at a distance of 300,000 miles. This rogue planet will then head off back into space, in an unknown new orbit… The satellite Pandora, having since left its orbit around Apocalypse, will strike the northern hemisphere 19 months later on May 26th 2029, unleashing an apocalyptic event that will result in mass extinction and the end of civilisation. Therefore, it is only prudent that we now take cautionary steps to secure humanity extinction…" _

"_For the past few months, engineers and scientists have been constructing an immense underground shelter called the HAB, which is to serve as our new Noah's Ark. Powered by a experimental thermoelectric power system and an automated supercomputer, it can sustain 2000 people underground for 10 years, until the atmosphere clears and the dust settles… All the national art and treasures, as well as records of knowledge will also be shipped to the HAB's element-controlled vaults for safekeeping. Finally, a selection of all species, in the form of seedlings and frozen embryos, will also be shipped to the shelter… Similar shelters are also being constructed in other countries…"_

More missing pieces of the puzzle clicked into place as the second recording came to an end: with the Earth on the verge of destruction, humanity had taken steps to preserve the continuation of their world. This underground shelter they had discovered was, in essence, the seed for the rebirth of the world, containing everything necessary to start over. Eager to learn the rest of the rest of the story, Alan activated the next entry from 2026.

"_A year has passed since the prediction of doomsday. In spite of heavy doubts that the Earth will ever recover from the impact, governments have been labouring frantically on the HABs… Although it is impossible to prevent the passing of Apocalypse, some countries are preparing to initiate asteroid mitigation strategies in the form of a massive strike of TITAN missiles against Pandora, in hopes of diverting it away from Earth and preventing a full-scale catastrophe… While we have full confidence that the missile attack will succeed, this strategy can't be initiated until Pandora is only a few hours away…" _

"…_Meanwhile, others have been working on yet another alternative: experimental nuclear propulsion rockets capable of powering unmanned spacecraft containing payloads of algae and bacteria to Apocalypse, which we believe, will eventually settle in a steady orbit between Earth and Venus, and whose surface appears suitable for terraforming… Space Arks are being fitted out, to carry a small group of people, records of knowledge and all the necessary resources for the reconstruction of a civilisation on a new world… Meanwhile, the weather is slowly turning violent, as Apocalypse nears our planet…" _

The next clip from 2027 opened with random footage of ruined, submerged and deserted cities worldwide, similar to the condition of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, just after the bombs were dropped. Then, the face of an unknown figure, which McEwen figured was the HAB's Commander, broadcasting from his new home base, reappeared. The unidentified future Prime Minister had gone, probably perished in the catastrophe.

_"My name is Lt General Mark Vasich, Base Commander of the HAB of the former United Kingdom of Britain and Ireland. The passing of Apocalypse has come and gone, leaving behind mass destruction worldwide, far greater than any other catastrophe on record; tsunamis, volcanic and seismic activity, and super storms took their toll within a matter of hours. Continents split apart, volcanoes erupted with apocalyptic force, unleashing more catastrophe than any other event in history. Satellite images reveal changes made to the geography of our planet as a result of the catastrophe… All areas below sea level are now completely submerged, along with multiple islands… In addition, the gravitational pull of Apocalypse disrupted the orbits of many satellites, tearing them away from the Earth or causing them to re-enter the atmosphere and burn up. Consequently, all telecommunications have gone off the air, and all long-range means of transport have been destroyed, leaving us stranded and on our own…" _

"_All major cities around the globe are now deserted and in ruins, with survivors evacuated to shelters in mountain locations. Despite the precautions taken, almost 6 billion lives - nearly three quarters of the Earth's population - have been lost… However, to our good fortune, most of the HABs - including our own - and Space Arks have survived the disturbance, otherwise all hope for humanity would be lost…" _

Alan took a minute to piece everything he had been hearing together; although he knew terraforming projects were doable in _theory_, he never thought any government would finance such an project, at least not for another 100 years or more, given that the global economy in 2012 was in tatters as a result of the war, and wasn't likely to recover for years to come. Curious to see the outcome of all these efforts, he activated the next entry from sometime in 2028. The face of Lt General Mark Vasich reappeared.

"_Now that the asteroid is on its final trajectory, we have finally been able to calculate the exact point of impact: the calculations show it will strike the northern hemisphere, somewhere in southeastern Siberia. The impact will be nothing less than an extinction level event. The aftermath will be lethal fallout of toxic stardust that will spread through the entire atmosphere in a matter of days. The sky will turn dark, causing photosynthesis in vegetation to cease. Within a few months, the last remaining plant and animal life will be dead and our world will be reduced to another inhospitable planet, caught in a solar winter that will last for 10-15 years…" _

"_Unfortunately, although the HABs are capable of sustaining life, they can only accommodate 2-3,000 people each, along with some seedlings and livestock; in total, less than a million out of the 3 billion people still remaining on the Earth stand any chance of survival… With the exception of those who have been preselected due to their expertise in knowledge, the rest of the evacuees will be randomly chosen by lottery, shortly before the two worlds collide. Meanwhile, our scientists continue to work frantically on developing any further methods of aiding more survivors…" _

Alan was completely pale by now, the contents of his stomach about to spill. So this was what had happened to the world he had once known: an asteroid impact had wiped out human civilisation and changed the face of the Earth forever. Just like it had happened with the dinosaurs millions of years ago, this naturally occurring Armageddon had eliminated the old world entirely, paving the path for a new one to rise from the ashes. One part of the mystery had been solved; but what about the other half. Feeling shaky and clammy with anticipation, he activated the next clip from 2029, to see the end of the old world.

"_The final countdown has started. All the 22 space missions from the United States, Russia, Japan, France, Britain and China have been launched, carrying a total of 600 colonists to Apocalypse, Mars and even the Moon, in hopes of terraforming these neighbouring planets into a new Earth. For the remaining 3 billion survivors still on the Earth, the time has come to select the few fortunate enough to have the chance of living to see our world reborn… A government computer will randomly select 1,500 British civilians, whose names will be posted to the military commanders of every refugee camp. Those selected will be ferried to the HAB, which is now complete and stocked. There they will join the 500 pre-selected scientists, soldiers, doctors, teachers, artists, officials and even the Royal Family who have already been chosen…" _

"_Unfortunately, no help can be offered to anyone else, including senior citizens over the age of 50, handicaps, and prison inmates, whose names won't be included in the lottery. Against all odds, many independent groups of survivors have also been working to construct their own shelters in sewer systems, secure buildings, abandoned mineshafts or caves, hoping to survive on rationed provisions until the crisis is over… In total, there are one hundred completed and working HABs around the globe, each of which can accommodate 2,000-3,000 survivors, depending on its life support system. As of now, the beginning of the end has started…"_

Alan and his companions felt sick, imagining the millions of people that had lost the lottery and left behind to die. According to this recording, the Earth had nine billion inhabitants by 2027; approximately two-thirds had died in the passing of Apocalypse and less than a million of the remaining three billion would have any chance of surviving Pandora via a lottery. Too many short straws to even think about. In the next video entry, Commander Vasish reappeared, looking pale and downcast; doomsday was finally upon the world.

_"To whoever is seeing this, our lives are now in the hands of the Lord; the impact of Pandora is imminent and inevitable. The missile strike has failed; although the TITANs intercepted Pandora, they only succeeded in breaking massive chunks off its surface that will cause further devastation, as they strike the Earth in random locations. The biggest fragment will still strike Siberia in just under 24 hours, unleashing a lethal pyroclastic cloud that will cause the temperature to soar to 500 degrees Fahrenait within a radius of over 1,000 miles from the point of impact. The lethal space dust will follow, chocking up the atmosphere and black out the sun for the next 10 years, leaving the Earth in the darkness and cold of a solar winter."_

"_Meanwhile, the area around the HAB has become a war zone with millions of rioters driven to insanity with fear, struggling to get into the shelter by force. The 2200 selected and the animals are being moved underground, while soldiers continue fighting to keep the desperate refugees at bay. Meanwhile, above our heads, the dark shadow of Pandora is growing larger as it nears the Earth, to deliver the final blow. This is the final broadcast that will ever be out on the air for the next ten years, until the atmosphere has cleared and civilisation can recommence. My staff, as well as the refugees entrusted to my care, have all taken up their duties, as we embark on our new mission: survival. God's speed to us all."_

With that, Vasish's final broadcast to the doomed British nation ended. The mystery of what had happened to the world was finally solved: a violent act of nature had destroyed civilisation centuries ago. A handful of survivors had escaped down here, including Drake, hoping to wait it out and then rebuild. However, it didn't look like that had ever happened, since there were no other humans around, save for those primitive humanoids they had confronted at Cowslip's warren. So far there had been no explanation as to how their rabbit friends had come to dominate the Earth, or the ultimate fate of the human race. Where had they originated from? Perhaps Drake had known the answer to that as well? Maybe he had been a _part_ of it?

**Author's note:** The story of the asteroids was inspired from the book _When Worlds Collide_ by Edwin Balmer, and from the movie _Deep Impact_ 1998. For those who are confused, in 2025 the world had 9 billion inhabitants; 6 billion died from the passage of Apocalypse. From the remaining 3 billion, approximately 500,000 were evacuated to the HABs around the world, 600 escaped into space and the rest died from the impact of Pandora. Coming up next, the tale of the origin of El-ahrairah. Do enjoy and please review!


	19. Chapter 19 Tale of the Four Brothers

Alan examined the rest of the log and found several more video entries, recorded by Drake himself, circa 2034. Remembering that his colleague had been one of the world's leading experts in genetics, he activated the next clip, curious to find out what Drake had done during his time at the HAB, as one of the pre-selected scientists. His colleague's aged face appeared on the screen, replacing Commander Vasish. In the background, they could see the control room they were standing in now, looking full of life and in far better condition than the mess it was in now. The dome in the atrium outside the observation windows was illuminated with an artificial sky, complete with a sun and even the sounds of a breeze, serving as a temporary replacement for the real sky on the surface, currently in blackout.

_"The fifth anniversary of doomsday has come and gone. Since Pandora struck the Earth, we have been completely cut off from the rest of the world, since we can't venture outside without environment suits, and radio communication is impossible in this endless, dense dust storms that have choked up the atmosphere, in every last corner of the globe…" _

"_Although we have adjusted quite well to living confined underground, unfortunately most of our livestock are showing signs of stress and restlessness from the constant absence of sunlight and lack of room… It seems unlikely that they'll survive long enough until we can return to the surface again… To add to our troubles, the recent accident in the cryostorage – which claimed the life of Commander Vasish and several others, making me the new acting Commander of the HAB - has destroyed most of our embryo and seedling stocks, leaving our rapidly diminishing livestock and artificial greenhouse as the only surviving remnants of our dying biosphere. Unless a solution can be found, we might be facing extinction from famine…" _

"_As a last resort, my colleagues and I have made an executive decision: to use our few remaining embryo stocks to create a number of genetically enhanced creatures, which could form the core of an entirely new ecosystem… Therefore, we have started by using embryos of small herbivorous animals that form the key links of a simple ecosystem, enhancing them with a splicing and gene therapy procedure of my own invention. As a catalyst of their genetic enhancement, the four rabbit embryos (three males and one female) have had several mutated human genes added to their DNA strands, which code for superior brain cells. The result should be, in theory, a new species of rabbit of greater size, health, and possibly intelligence, among other unspecified advantages, which can adapt to this new environment…" _

"_The foetuses have been properly fragmentised and transfected and are now being implanted into our last four surviving surrogate does that will mother them. Now, we wait 31 days to see the results…"_

Alan felt the wheels in his head spin as the secret of the origin of this new world finally came to light. So this was where their rabbit friends had originated from: Drake's genetic enhancement experiments! A miracle of science had made this impossible world come to life. Finally on the right track, he eagerly activated the next file, to see the results of Drake's experiments in 2035.

"_Project Utopia is an enormous success; all four genetically enhanced kittens were born healthy but unfortunately the surrogate mothers all died shortly after giving birth, since the kittens were too big for their wombs. The first newborn, originating from a donor Flemish Giant breed, has been named El-ahrairah, after the mythical folk hero character of Richard Adams' masterpiece Watership Down." _

"_It has been determined that these new species of rabbits, which have been given the biological name Lagomorpha Sepien - or Lagomorphic Man for short -, are capable of growing to an average size of 3/4 that of a human being and living up to an average of 45 years, much longer than their extinct counterpart. In addition, they possess the ability of speech, coloured eyesight, and human-level intelligence. The additional three newborns, Rubscuttle, a descendant of a Checkered Giant donor, Hemlock, a descendant of another Dutch Flemish, and Laurel, a descendant of a Himalayan Angora, also possess similar abilities…" _

"_In light of our success, our linguists have decided to teach them the grand philosophy and language Mr Adams created in his book, giving these new creatures their own culture, including language, religion and society. A new, intelligent species of animal has been born, bringing the grand story of Watership Down to life…" _

Alan turned to look at his companions, which were struck dumb at this new piece of information; there was no further question that Hazel's people had indeed originated from Dr Drake's experiments, in other words created _by the hand of man_! Although the human race had not survived into this day and age, _human intelligence_ still survived through these rabbits, which possessed the human genes of speech and thinking; that was the key that once made humans the dominant species of this planet. Their savage, mutated descendants, who had long since lost these traits, belonged to a primitive lifestyle, almost the equivalent of wild animals. But how could this have happened?

According to the log, the HAB was supposed to sustain life long enough, until civilisation could recommence. Had something unforeseen occurred, like that accident that had destroyed the facility's embryonics storage, which had ironically prompted Drake into bring his friends' kind into existence? Perhaps that unknown cause was also linked to the reason why the own kind had degenerated into primitive savages? Or was there something more behind this mystery? He activated the next clip and saw Drake again, this time in his lab, sometime in 2039.

_"Our new companions are growing into fine personalities. El-ahrairah has become the new soul of morale of our subterranean colony, as well as the natural leader of his fellow species. Rubscuttle is a pleasant chap, with admirably fierce loyalty for his friend and leader. Laurel, who seems rather lost by being the only doe around, is kind and caring and will probably make a fine mother someday. Hemlock, on the other hand, is pretty much withdrawn from the others, although he always appears respectful. He seems to have a great thirst for learning and spends many hours alone, conversing with our holographic A.I. librarian, HAL. He has also formed a close friendship with Colonel Sven Shertok, our chief engineer…" _

"_Meanwhile, within a year, the dust will have finally settled and we will be able to start rebuilding the Earth. Unfortunately, only about 700 of the original 2217 survivors remain, the rest having died over the years, mainly from the stress of constant confinement, as well as from diseases that are very hard to control in this closed environment. Among us are also a few children that were born underground and will soon be introduced to sunlight for the first time; unfortunately, most of these children have been born with disabilities, mainly Down's syndrome and muteness, a side effect of the stress their parents undergo by living confined underground for so long. Hemlock seems to have taken those disabled children under his wing and acts like a fatherly figure to them. Although my colleagues admire his motives, it makes me very uneasy…"_

Alan was puzzled; by the look of things, civilisation was bound to start anew as planned – which of course he knew, would never happen. The question as to what had happened to the remainder of humanity still remained unanswered. He activated the next clip from 2040, hoping Drake had left behind some more information.

"_Finally, after nearly 11 years of living underground, we are able to see the changed sky again. A thin ring of space debris has formed around the Earth, probably from shattered fragments of Pandora that were blasted back into orbit after the impact. The Earth, although still habitable, as expected, has been reduced to a desolate wasteland, yet the first traces of moss and lichens are already visible, indicating the planet is still capable of sustaining life. Our analysis of the soil indicates that there are also dormant fertile plant seeds, which will soon start flourishing now that sunlight is restored…"_

"_Unfortunately, most of our animals have long since died out, diminishing our original biosphere beyond restoration. However, the presence of surviving seedlings in the soil confirms that agriculture is still possible. Within the next 10-20 years, it is assumed that most of the Earth's original vegetation will be restored naturally and the environment will eventually settle into a new balance, giving us a fighting chance for a future…" _

"_So far, we have been unable to establish contact with any of the other HABs, so we assume there aren't any others left but us; a total of 700 human beings, some livestock and seedlings are all that remains of the Old World. Satellite images confirm that many of the foreign HABs were destroyed by stray fragments of Pandora that broke off during the failed missile attack. The groups of rogue refugees have all been found dead, either from starvation or otherwise suffocated by the pyroclastic cloud unleashed by the impact."_

"_However, our greatest concern is that our planet seems to have suffered an unforeseen after-effect, possibly a result of the asteroid impact halting the nutrient cycles for so long, consequently changing the gas compositions of our atmosphere, resulting in the possibility of a major climate shift in the near future. The North Atlantic current is completely disrupted and global temperatures seem to be dropping rapidly. We hope that these weather effects are only temporarily and will cease with the thriving of fresh vegetation…"_

"_El-ahrairah and his family, as promised, have left to establish their first warren, using all our teachings as the basis of their new society. Laurel is already pregnant with her mate's (El-ahrairah's) first litter, promising a bright future for the new intelligent beings which will be sharing the new world with the human race as equals…or so I hope. Hemlock has chosen to remain with us instead… The first day in the new world has begun…" _

And with that the recording ended; Drake, along with some survivors and the Four Brothers had made it through the Apocalypse, and started anew. But there was still something missing: If some people had survived, then what had become of them? Why hadn't civilisation started over as planed? Carefully examining the remaining data, he found one last video, dating sometime in 2041. But when he tried to play it, the screen brought up a warning sign that the file was damaged and inaccessible.

"I am afraid the last piece of the puzzle still remains unknown; we shall have to seek the answer from elsewhere." Dandelion however, who had been trying to piece Drake's words together, suddenly gasped in realisation as he muttered, "The Story of the Great Freeze…" The others turned to look at him, as their storyteller launched into his story.

"There was a time when Frith left the sky and went away. Soon, the meadows of Fenlo were frozen and El-ahrairah's people were starving and freezing. El-ahrairah knew that his people couldn't survive without Frith so they set off to visit Prince Rainbow, Frith's messenger, and asked him why had Frith abandoned them. Prince Rainbow explained that Frith had left to seek out the secret of the universe. So El-ahrairah requested that Prince Rainbow pass on a message to Frith, that he and Rubcsuttle would make tracks in the snow, creating a message that would reveal the secret. Although sceptical, Frith returned and shone down to read El-ahrairah's message; the warmth of His rays melted the snow and El-ahrairah's message, revealing a world of happiness as El-ahrairah's people rejoiced the return of their Lord. Frith then realised His unfairness by neglecting His own children, so he made a promise: Even though he would go away at the turn of every season, to visit His other worlds, He would always come back. As a token of His promise, he created the holly, the ivy and the yew, which stay green all winter. They are Frith's Promise, which we celebrate every winter, as we await Frith's return in spring."

The others looked at the brown-furred storyteller, "Well told Dandelion!"

"Well told indeed," Alan said, realising where the storyteller was getting at, "You have just unravelled another piece of the puzzle Dandelion; the story of the Great Freeze definitely refers to that imminent Ice Age mentioned in the log. It is obvious your ancestors survived it… Perhaps humans did not? That would make some sense…"

"But it still doesn't add up," McEwen exclaimed, "Humanity has experienced and survived Ice Ages before. How could Dr Drake and his group survive an asteroid apocalypse, only to perish in an Ice Age afterwards?" In spite of the question that still remained unanswered, the rabbits couldn't help but feel completely overwhelmed by the information they had just learned.

"Do you realise what we have learned today chaps? _Humans_ were instrumental in our creation all along! El-ahrairah's creator, Drake was in fact a human! Frith in a barn, this is absolutely unbelievable! But who was that fellow Hemlock? He is never mentioned in any of the stories of El-ahrairah," Dandelion said, as intense muttering broke out among the lagomorphs.

"I don't know, but he sounds like bad news to me," Bigwig muttered with a frown; he could sense trouble in that mysterious rabbit that seemed to prefer working alone and in the shadows. His companions however were plagued by another greater mystery, not caring about Hemlock at the moment.

"But if humans were once our friends, then how come that friendship didn't last, and isn't even remembered?" Buckthorn asked, looking utterly confused at this inexplicable development, "The humans _we_ know are certainly not like Alan's kind…!"

"Hey guys, check this out!" Derek called, unfolding the atlas from Drake's time capsule and spreading it open on a nearby table. The rabbits stared blankly at the map, except Blackberry who muttered, "Isn't that the world…from _above_? That's the…Big Water and the land, right?" The other rabbits gasped in realisation, "By Frith, I think you're right Blackberry! Isn't he?" The three humans nodded as they all stared curiously at their changed world. Aside from the names of the continents and countries, the map had no cities or towns marked on it; instead, only a few dozens of red dots marked the locations of all the HABs around the globe, including the one they were standing in right now in southern England.

Although the geography of the Earth hadn't changed too much over time, they could see some significant changes caused by the catastrophe, just like it had been described in Drake's log. All regions below sea level including much of Norway, Argentina, New Orleans, Jordan, Israel, Iran and China, were now completely submerged, while regions situated close to the boundaries of tectonic plates had been reshaped beyond recognition, or otherwise annihilated altogether.

North America and Canada had been separated from South America through the Gulf of Mexico, which had been ripped in half by a splitting plate; most of the Caribbean, Bermuda and Florida Keys islands had disappeared; the Western Seaboard of the United States had shrunken by the collapse of the Pacific plate, indicating that most of the cities on the western coast had been annihilated. In the Pacific, most of the larger islands including Australia and most of Oceania remained, while some of the smaller ones, including Hawaii and Bali, had either sunk to the deep or had been replaced by new ones that had sprouted from the seabed by volcanic eruptions.

Europe looked pretty much unchanged aside from a few changes along the Mediterranean coast, on the borderline between the Eurasian and African plates; Italy had been detached from mainland Europe on the southern side of the Graian Alps; Sicily, Sardinia and the Balearic Isles had all vanished without a trace; in Greece, the Peloponnesian Peninsula had been completely detached from the mainland and become an island, joining the Aegean and Ionian Seas together. Africa, although unchanged, had become detached from Asia, while Israel, Jordan, Palestine and a most of the Sinai Peninsula had vanished, save for a few scattered islands dotting the now enlarged Suez Canal, which had been expended from the splitting of the Arabian and African Plates. Only Central Europe, which was situated away from the boundaries of any tectonic plates, remained unchanged.

In southwestern Asia, the Persian Gulf had expended inland, all the way up to the Caspian Sea, which was no longer an isolated inland sea. In the north-east, Siberia, Eastern Russia, Mongolia and parts of northern China had become part of a new, immense desert, with a massive crater in the centre; the impact site of Pandora. Although life had thrived all over, the asteroid had left its mark on that region, where vegetation would never thrive again. The rest of the planet however was thriving with life, the ecosystem having been restored over the centuries, just as Drake had foretold. Alan couldn't help but wonder, what kind of life existed out there? More giant talking animals? Remembering what Drake had said, he realised the environment had to be very different now, rendering his broad knowledge, which he took great pride in, well obsolete.

"Blimey, I fear it's back to the drawing board for natural sciences; everything we knew about the environment from our time now belongs to the dust and bones of Palaeontology," he said, his scientific thoughts alight in his head.

"What's Palaeontology?" asked Pipkin. Alan smiled at his little friend's eternal childish curiosity as he explained, "A science that studies extinct creatures. Since our kind has died out along with many of the original terrestrial species, then they belong to Palaeontology…or _will_ be, after the three of us eventually pass away," he added grimly, reminding himself that the human race would inevitably become extinct all over again with their eventual deaths from old age. Then, he remembered that, in spite of their marvellous history lesson, they still had to find a way out of this place.

Turning to a 3-D schematic of the HAB on another screen, he carefully studied the interior of the beehive-shaped structure, which was divided into levels, like slices off a pineapple, zooming in at different sections, until he pinpointed their location: the control room was a small chamber situated right in the centre of the underground facility. Just off the atrium, he could see the elevator shaft they had used to get in, which seemed to come out on the top of the Down, where the Honeycomb now stood. Unfortunately, there was no other escape route to be seen. McEwen stood up.

"All right, I guess we'll have to do this the hard way, ladies and gents. I suggest we split up; this way we can cover more ground in less time," he suggested. Bigwig nodded in agreement, "Good idea; but the does should wait here. We don't know if it's safe." Although Violet, Clover and Nildrohein seemed about to protest, they knew the firm captain of Owsla had a point; the alien environment of this 'man-warren' they were trapped in had them all on edge already, and they weren't too keen on venturing even deeper into this unnatural place. Alan studied the schematic, assigning search parties.

"There are four main levels in this place: the living quarters and social areas on Level 1, workshops and labs on Level 2, livestock pens and cryostorage on Level 3, and the engineering compartment on Level 4. I can also see two stairwells on opposite ends of the facility that run from top to bottom," he said, tracing them on the screen, "We can split up into two groups; Hazel, Fiver, Pipkin, Bigwig, Silver, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Bluebell and I can take the left stairwell; McEwen, Acorn, Buckthorn, Speedwell, Holly, Strawberry and Blackberry can take the right. We'll make the control room our rendezvous point. All right, let's move. You coming Deke?"

"No, I'll stay here and see if I can find anything else on this log or maybe get some more systems back online." Leaving Derek to work on the systems, with the does for company, the others left the control room. Using the walkways that led across the control room tower to the atrium balcony, the two groups set off in opposite directions, following the diagrams fixed to the walls of the concrete corridors, in search of a way out, wondering what other secrets lay hidden inside this immense crypt of the long forgotten human world…

Meanwhile, south of Watership Down, on a small, isolated island inside the canyon, a small Cessna Skylark had landed, barely missing the edge of the cliffs because of the drastically short runway. In direct contrast to the surrounding environment, this island, about a quarter of a mile wide and three-quarters long, was barren and foreboding, with unscalable cliffs and surrounded by the river, almost like a prison colony. The decaying ruins of an old building could be seen on the southern side, while a crater-shaped habitation was visible on the northern side.

After securing the aircraft and hiding it from view behind a collapsed wall near the ruins, Vervain and his squad led Robbins through a maze of trenches, which resembled a barrier of sorts, to the edge of the crater, which was swarming with mean-looking sentries. One single burrow entrance penetrating into the side of the crater led into the depths of Efrafa, the domain of General Woundwort; Robbins had reached Efrafa.

The four companions were instantly seized and ushered underground by the sentries, and into a vast cavern, which was the Council Chamber of the infamous warren. By now, Robbins had realise that these caverns were not entirely made by rabbits; they seemed to have been dug into the rocky ground of the island by means of ironwork and power tools, which the rabbits had then expended with their own digging. Ancient-looking beams and girders held up the ceiling, resembling supports used in mineshafts, among other familiar details… Robbins suddenly gasped in realisation as he recognised the place.

_Why, this was the old mine on the Buxton Estate, where Project Black Inferno is hidden! I'll be damned, this Woundwort fellow has Project Black Inferno buried right here in his own backyard, waiting for me to come and get it! It's absolutely perfect_, he thought, as he stood before the infamous Efrafan Chief Rabbit himself.

Seated at the far end of the chamber, atop a high stone platform, was General Woundwort, a massive, black one-eyed rabbit with the most hideous appearance imaginable: His teeth were shaped into points, like those of a rat, giving him the appearance of a ferocious, killer creature. But his fearsome appearance was nothing compared to his eyes; the right one was blood red and supernaturally phosphorescent, generating an air of strength, authority and, above all, fear, while the left one was milk white and pupilless, expressing past suffering and hardships. Combined together, they gave the General a most terrifying appearance indeed, making it likely for even the bravest of creatures to shudder in his presence. Towering over all the bystanders from atop his stone platform, which resembled a throne, the savage rabbit looked like a rabbit version of Satan surrounded by his minions.

Woundwort was the undisputed Chief Rabbit of Efrafa, a warren founded by his ancestor Lord Hemlock, a warlord and fearless warrior who had lived many generations ago. A strong and brutal rabbit by nature, Woundwort had devoted his life to one purpose: power. On the battlefield, he was a champion, always displaying limitless courage and strength, and always fighting to kill; even those lucky enough to walk away alive, they'd come out so viciously maimed, they were better off dead.

Woundwort's domain was one of pure tyranny and warfare; more than half the Efrafans were slaves, mostly does, which lived to do hard labour or bear healthy litters for the Owsla force. Under him were his Owsla and Owslafa; the former consisted of bucks of great strength and agility, as well as fiercely loyal to their Chief, all handpicked by Woundwort himself. Others that displayed the loyalty but lacked the physical strength, including Vervain, were instead placed in the Owslafa, the High Council that dealt with the commoners of Efrafa. The slaves were divided into Marks – or slave squadrons - each under the command of an Owslafa or Owsla officer, who was their prefect. The said prefect would arrange silflay times, work shifts, and above all, prevent any attempt ed escapes or conspiracies.

Disobedience was regarded a serious offence in Efrafa and the guilty were severely punished. The Owsla would send out Wide Patrols out to scout the surrounding areas, with the purpose of ambushing and capturing any wondering hlessil trespassing into their territory, or to report the locations of any alien warrens. Like bandits, Woundwort and his army would then strike, kill anyone who attempted to resist and capture the rest, particularly does or kittens, to use as slaves. Woundwort only favoured the fit and strong, so runts and weaklings rarely lasted long under Efrafa's harsh living conditions. Mating was also strictly controlled and the officers, as a benefit of their ranks, always had their free choice of does. All litters were inspected by the Council, picking out the healthy and the fit, while the runts were usually killed shortly after birth, to avoid being saddled with any worthless mouths to feed.

Owsla rabbits received the finest, as well as the harshest, of military training, making them capable of meeting any challenge imaginable. Communication between rabbits, including storytelling, was strictly controlled, censored with propaganda of Efrafa's 'glorious' past and the achievements of Hemlock, rather than El-ahrairah. The most important philosophy in Efrafan ideology was the emphasis on the danger humans posed to the world of rabbits; so it came as a great shock to everyone present as Robbins was ushered into the Council Chamber alongside Vervain and his Patrol.

The guards led the returnees before their Chief Rabbit and bowed respectfully. General Woundwort stared down at Robbins with an expression of utmost hatred before turning a threatening face to Vervain, who gulped, questioning the wisdom of bringing this ithe into his master's domain.

_"Captain Vervain, I demand an explanation for this outrage!"_ thundered the warlord, his insane red eye staring down at his cowering Head of Owslafa, who was too scared to reply, _"I sent you to find our escaped does and instead you bring me back a miserable ithe to make up for your failure? After everything I have taught you, regarding the menace that humans pose to our kind? You will be punished! Guards, take this scum of a human outside and kill him immediately. And as for you Vervain, for disgracing Efrafa with this despicable display, you are hereby demoted to slave and your ears will be slashed to ribbons. Guards, take him to the holding run and carry out the sentence."_

Although Robbins didn't understand any of the Lapine talk, he got the jest of what General Woundwort meant to do and didn't miss the opportunity to open his mouth, revealing his talking abilities to the entire crowd, just as two thickset guards grabbed hold of him and Vervain.

"General, it would be a real waste should you end my life now; I have come willingly to serve you, and can provide you with the power to enforce your will upon the world. Surely a great warrior like you wouldn't throw away such a marvellous opportunity?" he said, surprisingly calmly for a man about to be dragged away for slaughter. There was instant gasping and muttering among the crowd, hearing the seemingly mindless human _talk_. Woundwort was stunned for an instant, before quickly raising a paw to stop the guards.

"_Hold! I wish to hear him."_

He turned back to Robbins, this time speaking in perfect English, "Your name, stranger?"

"Robbins sir, at your service," replied Robbins, bowing his head respectfully, as the guards loosened their grip on him.

"Where do you come from and what is your business here?" Woundwort growled, locking his eye with Robbins, much like a snake about to devour a rather juicy rat. Despite the horrific stare, the man maintained his composure and answered calmly, carefully watching every word he said, knowing his survival – and his success - depended on it now.

"I come from another time, from the distant past. I was betrayed and left for dead by my selfish companions, who are plotting to infiltrate your warren…" He had just said the magic words for Woundwort jumped down from the platform and stared directly at Robbins with a burning rage.

"Nobody _ever_ dares challenge my authority! Those foolish enough to attempt it, die!" he growled dangerously, as Robbins, satisfied that his gamble was paying off, went on explaining.

"Well, those under the leadership of my sworn nemesis, who thinks himself better than everyone else around him, believe they can," he replied nastily, knowing he had just signed a death warrant for Alan and his friends. And indeed he had!

"In this case, it appears we have a lot to talk about…_Robbins_," Woundwort said, using Robbins' name for the first time, his face now forming into a false, friendly smile, "May I ask, what is it to you?"

"Let's just say it's personal revenge," said Robbins coldly, "In exchange for you helping me extract my long-awaited revenge against my enemy, I offer you control over a weapon that will increase your power a hundred-fold. The entire world will bow in fear before you in an instant. I believe an alliance between us would also benefit you, given that I have just exposed your worst enemy, whose strengths and weaknesses I know in every detail?" Woundwort seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he slowly nodded in agreement.

"Indeed. But be warned ithe: if you try double-crossing me in any way, you will be punished to the worst possible extent. In Efrafa, I always hold the highest jurisdiction and my word is the law. If I am to accept you as my ally, I expect you to obey me; I will make certain allowances for you to exercise certain authority over my Owsla because of your importance to my cause, but you are not to otherwise undermine my authority. Do you accept my terms?" asked Woundwort, still not breaking eye contact with Robbins, who was trying hard not to laugh, knowing he had won the jackpot; he had just secured an alliance with the strongest bully in town, giving Alan and his friends a deadly enemy, one who would stop at nothing to destroy them now.

"As long as I get to see my nemesis suffer and die, as he deserves, I am your man through and through," Robbins answered with a false bow of respect to his new 'master', "And I assure you _sir_, I am never likely to make such a foolish mistake. My loyalties lie with those whom I serve; and that someone is _you_…assuming of course, that you accept my offer." To his utmost satisfaction, Woundwort seemed to take the bait, his face curling into a sinister smile.

"Then I believe we have an understanding my dear fellow. Very well then. I suppose I could make an exception for you to be admitted among my ranks, despite the fact that you are a creature of low birth." There was instant muttering among the crowd at those words; General Woundwort had never accepted a _human_ – or any other creature for that matter - among his ranks before; on the contrary, he had always stressed how much a foul abomination of a species they were and how they should be avoided or exterminated at all costs. The dictator turned back to the muttering crowd, roaring, "Silence!"

The spectators instantly all fell silent instantly as their master turned back to Robbins, "At nee-Frith today, you shall enter the initiation ceremony and receive your identification mark, which officially makes you a follower of Efrafa; it is tradition that all my subjects, regardless of their rank, swear their oath of allegiance and pledge their lives to me before taking up their duties. You'll also be briefed on the details of the authority I will be entrusting to you, to use on my behalf. Now then, what about those renegade outsiders you speak of? Where are they hiding?"

"I am afraid I don't know for certain General. After I was left for dead, I lost their trail. However, I believe there is someone who might know. I doubt he will have a problem telling us; he is also another sworn enemy of theirs, as well as a willing associate of mine."

"Splendid. In that case, tomorrow, I will be taking out a Wide Patrol to visit your associate and then we set off to track down those renegades. They can't have gotten far. I want you to come along for the ride."

"Thank you very much General, I'd be most honoured," Robbins said, without argument, carefully playing his new role of loyal ally to the creature whom he intended to betray once it was in his best interests.

"Good, then that's settled. We set out tomorrow at dawn. In the meantime, allow me to introduce you to the hospitality of my domain," Woundwort said, suddenly sounding very much like Cowslip, "Captain Campion!" he called, summoning over a tall, well built rabbit with light brown fur, green eyes, and a notably gentle demeanour, compared to the rest of his mean-tempered comrades standing at attention.

"Pass an order to the slaves to have a double ration of flayrah delivered promptly to my chambers; also have the chamber does prepare the finest burrow for my guest. Go!" The Owsla rabbit cast Robbins a suspicious stare but bowed respectfully to his Chief and left. Woundwort turned to Robbins.

"Follow me ithe. We still have a lot to talk about before the night is over…privately," Robbins smiled and followed his host, satisfied that his plan was going like clockwork; he had just secured himself a powerful ally, which was exactly what he needed to carry out his quest for revenge. Although Woundwort definitely had more secrets that what he let on, the alliance they had just formed was exactly what he needed at this point. If his gamble paid off, Johnson and his friends would soon be finished good and proper, along with this nightmare of a world, leaving him to return to his own time victorious. The trick was to keep his true intentions under a lid until the last possible second…

That evening, a meeting was held in the Council chamber with all the Owsla and Owslafa present for an initiation ceremony; the first human in the history of Efrafa was about to receive his Mark. Robbins stood before General Woundwort, his left sleeve raised, waiting to be branded. After Robbins had recited his oath of allegiance to Woundwort and Efrafa, the dark warlord completed the ceremony by slashing him across the shoulder, marking with the familiar three-notch crest of Efrafa, "Welcome Officer Robbins of the Shoulder Mark!"

That night, Robbins curled up to sleep on the straw bedding of his new sleeping quarters; he had been given a plain but reasonably spacious burrow close to Woundwort's, usually reserved for distinguished Efrafans. Despite finding himself literally under this psychotic maniac's control, being in favour of General Woundwort was absolutely perfect. With his pulling the strings, he had just given Alan and his band a deadly enemy who would soon be embarking on a rampage until they were all dead or enslaved. Robbins didn't really care what the final outcome would be; all he had to do was manipulate Woundwort long enough, until the right moment for him to escape in the confusion…

**Author's note:** The end of another chapter! Now that most of the mysteries of the past are cleared, the countdown for the real storm has started. Please review!


	20. Chapter 20 Further Discoveries

Alan and his group set off to explore the HAB, looking for another way out. On his part, Alan kept wondering, what could have become of the inhabitants of this shelter? It was obvious by now that the damage in the control room and the atrium were the result of a violent struggle, yet so far they hadn't found any bodies other than Dr Drake's. Although undoubtedly dead after all these centuries, how could their remains just disappear into thin air?

At the top of the stairs, on Level 1, they found a corridor that run the full length of the facility's living quarters. These consisted of two mass dormitories on opposite side- one for the women and the other for the men -, each housing a thousand bunks, divided into quadrates, each housed in a draped cubicle to give some privacy to the tenants. Steel wardrobes stood against the walls beside each bunk, still bulging with the belongings of their long-gone occupants; clothing, shoes, stationary, washing utensils, electronics, jewellery, and other personal effects, all covered in dust and cobwebs, were neatly stacked on the selves in their lockers. Each cubicle was also fitted with its own chemical toilet and shower stall, nothing of particular interest.

Exploring further, they came to another section, which seemed to have been reserved for the more important residents of the HAB: here, the sleeping quarters were divided into private bunks, like cabins on a ship, and although still rather cramped, hardly ten square feet in size, they offered some simple luxuries, including a desk, bookcase, and computer. Here too, all the belongings of their missing occupants remained undisturbed, but no signs of the people themselves.

Moving on into the social areas, they came to a set of glass doors leading into another section, with faded lettering on the glass spelling: 'Museum Galleries.' Entering, they saw a vast, dimly lit chamber, almost the size of a golf court, with an arched framework ceiling, similar to the Crystal Palace from the time of the Great Exhibition in London. Most of the space was taken up by airtight glass cases – a few broken from falling chunks of broken h-section from the ceiling - of different shapes and sizes, filled with inert gasses, housing the exhibits of the ages, which sat frozen in time, even after all these centuries.

The section they had just entered seemed to be dedicated to Natural History; an awesome collection of fossils, dating from different geological eras, stood on display. As Alan walked up to examine the fossil of a Trilobite encased in amber, he heard his companions gasp in terror. Turning, he saw they had come face-to-face with the skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, still standing upright in its smashed case, looking like a threatening animal out on the hunt.

"What in Frith's name is that?" gasped Silver thunderstruck, staring at the massive teeth protruding from the jawbones, the others also staring wide-eyed at the fossilised creature of the prehistoric world, "I've never seen any elil like this monster before!"

"It's called a _dinosaur_, a rather vicious beast of prey from the Jurassic Period," Alan explained, staring at the all-too-familiar fossilised bones, "Or at least I think it was the Jurassic Period…"

"Your world was filled with elil this big?" Hawkbit gasped, staring with awe at the size of the creature's jaws that could easily swallow him whole, "Glad I wasn't born then…" Alan chuckled at the mental image of his rabbit friends confronting live dinosaurs.

"No Hawkbit, you duffer, these creatures existed long before humans even appeared on the Earth. The same catastrophe that destroyed my world also occurred some 65 million years prior, wiping out the world of the dinosaurs. Only these fossilised remains were left, embedded in rock or amber. Come on, we haven't got all day," he said, and they resumed their tour.

They moved on through another section of the museum, devoted to geology; hundreds of different samples of minerals, from feldspar to coal, sat on display on shelves in their glass cases. Seeing the possibility of finding something useful here, Alan called a halt, to get a better look.

"Look at all these stones! Aren't they beautiful?" Pipkin squalled with delight as they stared at all the different coloured minerals on display, including a large block of phosphorous glowing in the semi-darkness, which had caught his eye. Alan turned his attention away from a chunk of magnesium he had been examining, thinking on how these geological samples could be of use to them, and turned to Pipkin, "They sure are, lad. That one by the way is called phosphorous."

"Phosphorous," Pipkin repeated after Alan, who smiled; Pipkin seemed to be a pretty fast learner of human terms. Although there were a number of useful minerals such as sulphur and saltpetre, he couldn't think of any useful chemical formula they could be used for at the moment. The rabbits, on the other hand, were more interested in the beauty of the stones, rather than thinking of the practical applications they presented.

"Your kind _made_ all these beautiful stones? Frith above, this is absolutely marvellous!" Hazel said, staring at a sparkling amethyst. Alan chuckled, his old instinct of professor-lectures-student alight, "No Hazel, not _made_ them. We _dug_ them up from the ground," he explained, "That's what mining is for…"

Further down, they found another section dedicated to war. Relics from all eras of British wartime history stood on display, some chunks of rust, others in fairly good shape; shabby suits of armour from the Middle Ages stood erect, their empty faceplates staring vacantly at them; there were even a number of small armoured vehicles and aircraft, all looking good as new. Alan was overjoyed at the sight of all these weapons, particularly the guns; there were a great many pistols, rifles, machine guns, and even a few cannons and other heavy artillery, including bombs, rockets and torpedoes on display. But unfortunately, there was no ammunition, aside from a few used cartridges and the bombs and torpedoes were all duds or diffused, rendering the entire arsenal useless.

Alan stared in dismay at all these relics of man's destructive power, which, ironically had served so many corrupt past governments in favour of war, yet were of no use to _him_ when he needed them the most. Then, turning to another case, he found a large variety of knives, swords, cutlasses, daggers, sabres, spears, bayonets and knuckledusters; a collection of weapons that didn't require ammunition and could be used indefinitely. Picking up a fire extinguisher, he smashed the case to retrieve the contents within.

Alan stared at the knives, thinking; although he was quite happy with his commando knife, on the other hand, a larger blade would provide better defence against a dangerous opponent, especially since they had no firearms, other than Robbins' revolver. Picking up a machete that caught his fancy, he tucked it into his belt along with a couple of other knives for his two companions – like their distant ancestors, they would have to rely on simple hand weapons, rather than firearms, for their safety and defence.

A little further on, they came to a section dedicated to antiquities; Palaeolithic, Roman, Gothic, Classical, Tudor, Victorian, and Edwardian era masterpieces stood on display, perfectly preserved, but utterly worthless to them. Alan had to laugh as they spotted several armoured cases housing the Crown Jewels, among other treasures of his long vanished England, which now were worth nothing more than sentimental value if anything.

They kept moving through the museum, finding more and more interesting, yet useless junk, until they found another section dedicated to practical science; countless artefacts related to works of chemistry, medicine, physics, engineering and technology, stood on display. There was a vast collection of famous relics, including the Salisbury Cathedral's mechanical clock and even an assortment of common electronics dating from Alan's own time.

He became lost in thoughts of the possibility of restoring some of these artefacts that weren't completely corroded and putting them to use, saving him the trouble of having to build everything from scratch. But this wasn't the right time to think about that. They pressed on.

Further down, another exhibit caught his fancy: a large collection of miniature models, including automobiles, ships, aircraft, spacecraft, trains, famous buildings, monuments, machinery, and other miniatures of relics from humanity's vanished civilisation that were too big to be salvaged, instead were preserved as models. These collectibles could even serve a different purpose here, as teaching material for these rabbits interested in learning humanity's history. Alan felt his heart sink as his mind briefly flashed back to his late daughter, remembering how he used to give her history lessons using models.

Further on, they came to an art gallery; sculpture, paintings, frescos, jewellery, china, cutlery, and other priceless treasures of humanity stood on display in their sealed cases. Ironically, while all these would had been worth a fortune beyond comprehension on the black market back in the 21st century, in this future world, where there was no currency or economy, they only served as sad remainders of the lost civilisation that once took great pride in them.

The most interesting surprise however awaited them in another section, housing statues and the waxworks from Madam Tussaud's; dozens of mannequins of famous people, historical and fictional alike, stood in a row, behind ultraviolet glass screens. In the twilight, their painted eyes seemed to come alive and watch them as they walked by. The rabbits, completely unaccustomed to seeing a figure standing so still, were staring at the statues, as if expecting them to move, causing Alan to snort in amusement.

Several of the waxworks seemed to have been made after Alan's time, including one of an aged Dr Drake, standing with a leather-bound copy of Watership Down under one arm and a Nobel Prize for 'the best biological achievement of the 21st century' under the other. Suddenly, a cry from Fiver caught their attention, "Everybody come look at this; you won't believe it!"

Hurrying over to the little seer, Alan saw he had found none other than the Four Brothers themselves on display: El-ahrairah, a massive, stunning-looking buck with golden white fur and sapphire eyes stood proudly in front. Beside him stood another buck with dark fur, black-tipped ears and almond-green eyes, which Alan guessed, had to be Rubscuttle, El-ahrairah's friend and second-in-command. Laurel, a pale grey doe with stunning blue eyes and an intelligent face stood on El-ahrairah's other side. And standing behind the trio, facing away, was the most hideous-looking rabbit Alan had ever seen; even as a waxwork, the sinister expression of hate, power and cold-heartedness radiated from the creature's artificial red eyes.

Alan paled as he suddenly realised that the waxwork bore a striking resemblance to the description of General Woundwort from the book… Unfortunately, these waxworks had no protective glass case, leaving them exposed to the dust that filled the room. As a result, their once-bright fur had turned shabby over the years, deforming the original characteristics of the Four Brothers, making it difficult to tell for certainty if it was just mere coincidence or if Hemlock was curiously identical to the infamous Efrafan leader…

Alan made a mental note of returning to search the museum later, when the time was right; there was definitely a lot worth salvaging from here, other than the few odds and ends he had stuffed into his pockets. The chamber ended a little further down, as they came to a sealed set of double doors that led into the elevator shaft they had come through, from where the exhibits had originally been brought down.

Still having found no escape route to the surface, they cut the tour short and took a detour down a fire escape, and descended to Level 2, to renew their search. Stepping out of the stairwell, they found themselves in an elegant laboratory, the very place where Drake had created the Four Brothers; bottles of chemicals and test tubes, most still filled with their contents, lay on tables and in glass cabinets all around the room. The state-of-the-art equipment of the lab was all covered in dust and cobwebs, but otherwise intact.

This looked like a likely place to find something useful and they began searching; the rabbits were examining the many instruments with interest, yet at a complete loss as to what they were for. Fiver was staring through a magnifying glass suspended on a stand and saw his paw underneath, magnified nearly twice its normal size; he yelped in shock and backed away, checking to see if his paw was all right. Bigwig was examining a tray of surgery tools on a worktable, frowning at the thought of what a scalpel was used for. Pipkin was playing with a rotating DNA model (probably of the rabbits' own genome) that stood on a bench, looking delighted as he watched the different coloured molecules rotate on the strand.

Meanwhile, Alan, with Hazel's help, had begun a methodical ravaging of the lab, finding a number of useful items, which he pocketed on the spot. "Hey Alan, come look at this. I found more of those fire twigs of yours." Alan turned away from some sealed test tubes he had been examining, and saw Hazel had found a box of matches lying beside a gas burner on another table.

"You've got a sharp eye buddy, you know that?" he said as he picked up the box and tried a match. They were in perfect condition, the dry air having preserved them well. In another cabinet, he found a bottle of strychnine nitrate solution – a powerful poison - which he stuffed into his vest pockets, along with the matches and knives from the museum.

This level turned out to be the most interesting of all, housing one treasure after another. Their first stop was the HAB's infirmary; an elaborate makeshift hospital, still fully stocked, spread across the room, looking almost as if it had never been used. Although obviously a real treasure to them, they still had the first aid kit from the chopper up in the Honeycomb, and the medical supplies down here would all require careful inspection before they could used safely, which would have to wait for later.

Their next stop was the HAB's workshop; worktables stood in rows around the room, strewn with the finest toolkits Alan had ever seen; tools for carpentry, metallurgy, mechanics, electronics, and every other known craftsmanship could be seen everywhere, complete with an ample supply of materials and spare parts. Alan whistled aloud at the thought of Derek, who had a soft spot for machines, and would literally be in heaven when he saw this place. But, again, this wasn't the right time to dwell of all the golden possibilities presented to them with all these tools, for they had still to find a way out. They pressed on.

For the next half hour they kept exploring this maze of corridors, finding more and more interesting facilities, each bulging with its own treasures, including storerooms, a gymnasium, a mess hall, an entertainment centre, and even an underground chapel, complete with a crematorium where all the deceased inhabitants of the HAB were cremated to prevent disease. Finally, they came to a set of glass doors that led to the last chamber on that level.

Alan was surprised to see the doors were bolted from the outside from a crowbar wedged through the handles. Peering through the observation windows along the wall, he saw only black smudges on the other side of the fireproof glass, obscuring everything from view. Swinging the doors open, he was greeted by a cloud of ash, combined with strong smell of burned matter, which came pouring out. Chocking, he backed away, dusting his clothes clean, waiting for the air inside to refresh itself. This room inside was completely dark, the lights out of order.

Shining his flashlight inside, he saw it was a library; in contrast to the rest of the facility however, it looked utterly ruinous. All the panelling was gone, exposing the ragged h-section framework of the walls and ceiling, all the furniture and equipment reduced to bare, corroded frames. The entire room had been incinerated long ago by, what appeared to have been, some massive fireball, which had swept the room, only to be stopped from spreading any further by the fireproof doors. Mounts of, what appeared to be, paper ash and chunks of debris littered the floor.

A quick glance at this sight of devastation told Alan that the most valuable resource he could ask for - records of knowledge, the key for starting civilisation anew – was not to be found here. All those books, donated by the greatest libraries of England, had been reduced to worthless blocks of charcoal, which filled the steel shelves of the charred bookcases. The whole place testified to the aftermath of some mass book-burning.

Stepping inside, utterly dumbstruck by the sight, his foot crunched down on something; shining his flashlight on the floor, he realised it was a charred human skull. What he had mistaken for ash and debris were actually the cremated skeletal remains of human bodies! The entire library floor was covered in piles of charred human bones, in addition to the burned books. In an instant Alan understood; the entire library had been torched with a large number of people trapped inside, like a live incinerator, undoubtedly the work of the same person who had wedged that crowbar across the door, sealing them all in this death trap.

Horrified, he stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. The back of his head impacted with a solid glass surface and a moment he saw stars. Readjusting his spectacles on his face, his companions hurrying up to him, "You're all right old chap? You acted as if you just saw the Black Rabbit of Inle in here!" Alan took a few seconds to calm down before answering.

"Human bodies… All this ash is _human bodies_! We've found the rest of the missing inhabitants guys. They were all burned alive in here!" he cried, shuddering violently at the awful realisation. Bigwig frowned, staring at all the bones, "But who would have done such a brutal…?" But they were suddenly interrupted by a soft voice sounding through the gloom, catching them all by surprise.

"_Welcome to HAL System. How may I help you?_"

Turning, they saw the strange full-length transparent screen, which Alan had banged against, begin to glow electric blue; within seconds the outline of a man had materialised in it, looking misty from all the dust and smudges that coated its surface. The figure was dressed in an elegant black suit and wore round spectacles on his clean-shaven face. They had found a man inside a facility supposedly sealed up for centuries!

"Who…who the hell are you? Where did you come from…?" Hazel gasped in surprise as they stared at the figure, who answered patiently, seemingly oblivious to their surprise of finding him down here.

"_I am a fusion-powered Holographic Artificial Librarian, commonly known as HAL. I am the HAB's primary information unit; I am fitted with uplinks to multiple satellites and other external information sources. In addition, my memory core contains an encrypted archive of all recorded knowledge up until the year 2029. Alternately, I can process and verify visual or oral data upon request. May I be of assistance?_" It was only then that Alan realised, it was in fact a holographic, digital image of a man that resided inside the crystal screen, which stood erect on a bulgy circular pedestal made of cobalt and nickel, able to withstand millennia of corrosion. His rabbit friends however were still lost for words.

"How long have you been here? Where in Frith's name did you come from?" Hazel asked, unable to comprehend the concept of intelligent futuristic technology. The holographic librarian answered flawlessly, registering Hazel's words in its electronic brain and formulating the most fitting answer.

"_I was designed in 2025, to serve as a safe keeper of all human knowledge; my nickel-enforced casing houses a copy of the most advanced digital Rosetta Disk ever constructed, which contains encrypted microscopic copies of every written text, forming a mass compendium of all human knowledge. My core also houses a copy of the Terrestrial Immortality Drive, containing the digitalised DNA information of every recorded terrestrial species. In addition, my computer is linked up to the KEO ULTRA satellite network, which house a wireless archive of all major Internet databases around the world, which were transferred into orbit in 2027, after the World Wide Web went out of service. My fusion power cell gives me a virtually unlimited lifespan, so that I may preserve all of humanity's knowledge for the far future."_

Realising they had found the greatest treasure yet – in a way, even more valuable than printed books -, he turned back to the artificial intelligence librarian, to test its capabilities, "So, you actually know _everything_?"

"_Everything that exists in my memory core or otherwise transmitted through my uplinks and stored in my temporary memory bank. Your area of inquiry?_" HAL answered, conjuring digital icons of his library catalogue. Alan considered for a moment, "What's the date today?" he asked, testing the artificial librarian. The holographic image instantly conjured a calendar and a digital timepiece marked into days, months and years, _"Today is the 16th of March of the year 2791 A.D., 18:47:11 Greenwich time."_ Alan's eyes bulged as he read the date on the digital calendar.

"That time warp has thrown us nearly 800 years into the future! Unbelievable," he muttered as he reset his watch to the correct time. The wheels in his head turned wildly as he realised that this advanced super computer probably knew all the advanced sciences of the future, perhaps even how time travel could be accomplished. "Can you tell me anything about time travel?" The artificial librarian conjured a digital sand clock indicating his processor was performing the requested search in its database, before conjuring several icons.

"_Time Travel is a fictional phenomenon very popular in science fiction. Noted inspirations include the written works of Henry George Wells, Isaac Asimov, Sprague De Camp as well as the film adaptations of Wells' novel The Time Machine, made in 1960 by George Pal and its remake by Simon Wells in 2002_. _The story was also dramatised for radio in 2004 and even made into a low-budget television special in 1978…"_ Alan was beginning to lose hope.

"What about _practical application_? Are there any theories that state time travel as a physical possibility or any theories on how it can be accomplished?"

"_There are a few obsolete theories on time travel, which were scrapped after it was determined by the Global Board of Sciences that time travel is physically impossible. That's all the information I have on that search. Will there be anything else, Dr Johnson?"_

"Well, do you… Hang on! How did you know my name? I don't believe I've introduced myself..."

"_I am programmed to identify visitors by visual memory, and matching them with the records in my database. If my sources are correct, you are Dr Alan Johnson, born on the 2__nd__ June 1978 to Jack and Samantha Johnson, in London England. You mysteriously disappeared on the 27th December 2012 and were presumed dead in a suicide plane crash. Since you have been falsely declared dead, I have just updated your age in your profile and removed the date of death. You are currently 813 years old_," replied the image, conjuring a digital icon of Alan's profile, which had once existed in government databases.

"Do you know us too?" asked Silver; the lagomorphs were beginning to feel rather uneasy at HAL's all knowing. The hologram conjured another sand clock as it scanned its database for matching files.

"_None of you are registered in my personnel files. However, from your descriptions and your names, it is a 75% probability that you are Hazel-rah, Fiver, Pipkin, Silver and Bigwig, the fictional characters of Richard Adams' most popular novel, 'Watership Down.' The novel was adapted into an animated motion picture in 1978 by Martin Rosen, a 3-season animated series in 1999 by ITV, a BBC radio dramatisation in 2005 by Neville Teller, and a live action show in 2018 by Tim Burton. It also provided inspiration for fanfiction; one particular story called 'The Cross Bearer' was eventually published as an official sequel to the original novel in 2014. I have just created new profiles for you, just like I did after the birth of El-ahrairah, the first of the Four Brothers_…"

Alan suddenly remembered Drake's damaged video log; perhaps, this artificial intelligence knew the missing piece of the puzzle? He turned to HAL, "Can you tell me what happened here? Anything about Hemlock?"

"_Certainly. My system keeps temporary copies of my virtual memories; everything seen or heard from my perspective, within this room, I pick up and manage independently. I am programmed to overwrite the memory storage every 24 hours, to prevent overloading the data bank."_ Alan sighed in exasperation; it seemed like they wouldn't be finding the answer here either. _"However,"_ HAL went on, _"Since I went into shutdown mode, following the library fire, my last memory snapshot, including an e-report for the HAB's security officer, still exists. What to you wish to know?"_

"The one of when this library was destroyed with all these people trapped inside. I wish to find out who caused it and why," Alan answered, feeling overjoyed at the prospect of finally learning the answer to this mystery. Sure enough, HAL launched into his report of the massacre, which he had witnessed centuries ago.

"_There was an act of mutiny led by chief engineer Sven Shertok and an unidentified rabbit associate. According to my sources, the siege was accomplished using a carefully planned strategy: the first phase was to sabotage the HAB's mainframe, disabling all communications and security systems, before proceeding to poison the HAB's water supply with a toxic chemical agent. Within a day, 400 people had died from poisoning; the rest had been absent from the HAB at the time, on scouting missions, sparing them that grim fate. The second phase was a death trap set for the recalled expeditions, who came to investigate the radio silence; as they all entered the atrium, a hidden bomb shattered the Observation Dome, killing some 200 of them instantly. The rest, including El-ahrairah, who had come to help us, were hunted down, rounded up and forced at gunpoint into this room. After sealing them up in here, along with the bodies of the dead, a controlled propane vent rigged to the library's ventilation system was unleashed, creating a flash fire that killed them all_."

"Who was this Sven Shertok?" asked Alan with a frown, remembering the name from one of the people in the photograph in Robbins' journal. HAL conjured another government profile of a man with Slavic features, which looked familiar to Alan,_ "Sven Vasili Shertok was born in 1975 in Georgia, USSR. Immigrated to the United Kingdom with his family in 1989. His engineering projects for the military are an addition to his credit. In 2027, he was assigned as the chief engineer of the HAB. His motives behind his betrayal remain unknown to this day; all I know is he deserted the HAB after committing the crime and disappeared…"_

Although surprised that this Shertok had been the culprit rather than Hemlock, as they had assumed, Alan had a suspicion; if Robbins had been an associate of this man, then Shertok had undoubtedly been another member of the infamous Red Hand Brotherhood; remembering what Robbins had said about the faction aborting because of the loss of Project Black Inferno, it made sense that this former, failed terrorist would seize the opportunity for power by joining forces with Hemlock…if it had been Hemlock at all. They had to find out for certain.

"HAL, I will be plain with you; we have reason to believe to believe that the deaths of all these people weren't the result of a mere mutiny, but a carefully planned _mass extermination_; we also have reason to believe this fellow Shertok was only a _middleman_ in this scheme. It is vital that you show us your memory of the event, so that we can determine the _true_ culprit."

"_Very well. Behold,_" HAL said, stretching his arms out wide, activating his virtual memory of the event. His image faded away and, what looked like, a recording from his own perspective appeared on the screen, much like a video playback on a security camera screen.

They saw the library intact, during its days of use. Only at this particular moment, it resembled a mausoleum rather than a library; Alan felt his blood run cold as he saw the floor was littered with hundreds of dead bodies lying side by side in the aisles, covered in ghastly injuries or foaming at their mouths (a sign of poisoning). All the bodies, as well as the books on the shelves, were drenched in an oily substance, which Alan soon recognised as gasoline; the place was a death chamber about to be torched.

As they watched, they saw another small procession of battered, but living people, being ushered inside by a man who was holding a submachine gun on them, slamming the doors of the library behind them, and sealing them inside their makeshift prison. Then, a faint, yet sinister voice sounded, over the cries of the condemned.

"_Burn it! Burn those wretches and their knowledge to Inle!"_

Suddenly, the blaring of a danger alarm echoed throughout the room, followed by the hissing sound of a pressurised gas escaping from somewhere; the fire sprinklers had been triggered. But instead of releasing hellion to extinguish a supposed fire, they were releasing _propane_,to start one. A state of panic broke out as people desperately tried to force the locked doors open, realising their horrible predicament.

Before anyone could do anything, the flammable gas made contact with a flame caused by a remotely controlled explosive cap planted somewhere in there, and then a great ball of fire swept the room, incinerating everything in its path. In an instant, the fire sprinklers had become hovering flamethrowers, incinerating the whole library from top to bottom. People run madly about, as the gasoline on the floor also ignited, trying to escape the flames, but it was no use.

Alan's group watched in horror as burning people rushed about, screaming in agony before dropping like flies. As Alan's eyes scanned the video, he suddenly saw what he was looking for: in the background, behind the fireproof glass of the bolted doors, stood a man, whom he guessed had to be Sven Shertok; and beside him was the outline of a giant rabbit. As if reading Alan's thoughts, HAL zoomed in onto the figure's face and enhanced the picture.

Sick recognition hit Alan as he recognised a familiar pair of insane red eyes staring in sickening triumph as his enemies were being incinerated like trash along with their greatest legacy, right before him. Then the recording stopped, as the heat destroyed the camera. Alan sunk to his knees in shock; although he had suspected it would turn out to have been Hemlock all along, the matching description with the waxwork in the museum and the description of Woundwort from the book, now told him something else which concerned _them_.

"Oh my God, I knew it. It was _him_. It was Woundwort's ancestor who started all of this!"

**Author's note:** I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As you probably guessed the museum part was inspired from the Palace of Green Porcelain in Wells's _The Time Machine_. The character HAL was inspired from the character VOX from the 2002 movie adaptation. Also, the Rosetta Disk, the Immortality Drive and the KEO satellite exist; only they aren't so advanced as portrayed here (mine are meant to be updated future versions). The information on the media adaptations of _Watership Down_ is also real, even the fictional 2018 live action show, which is rumoured to be in development. Do enjoy and please review! I wish to hear comments. Thank you!


	21. Chapter 21 The Last Piece of the Puzzle

Alan stood frozen in shock as the identity of the culprit who had destroyed the last of the human race, finally came to light: it had been non other than Hemlock, the unheard-of Forth Brother, with the purpose of eliminating a competitive intelligent species, which threatened his rise to power. The burning of the library had undoubtedly been the usual precaution of the victor intent on retaining his power: by destroying the legacy of humanity - thousands of years worth of knowledge -, had prevented any of his own kind from ever following in humanity's footsteps, or learning the truth of his betrayal. Only HAL's memory core survived by accident, thanks to technology's bent in creating a devise capable of preserving one record of knowledge forever.

Dr Drake, it seemed, had been the only one to evade capture and had tried to escape with the truth, only to be caught and killed by Hemlock soon thereafter, judging by his mangled corpse they had found back in the control room. And after everything he had seen today, could only spell out one thing:

"Woundwort must be a direct _descendant_ of Hemlock, and the heir to his dark legacy, which is why they share this strong resemblance; that also explains why humanity's past has never been known around here until now…" He turned to his companions who were staring back at him with expressions of utmost horror at this awful realisation; not only had they learned that humans had been instrumental in their creation all along, but also that it had been one of _their_ key ancestors that had in fact driven the two species apart.

"But if it was Hemlock who buried the secret of humanity's role in our creation," said Hawkbit, detecting a flaw in the deduction, "Why didn't he rise to take control of the Meadows of Fenlo? Why does his descendant Woundwort hide like a fugitive?" Alan considered for a moment.

"I don't think he ever wanted his ancestor's true history revealed beyond the realm of his supporters; that's why nobody on the outside has ever heard of him or his ancestor's triumph over humanity. Having his origin associated with the human race, which created you, but which his ancestor betrayed and destroyed, would be catastrophic for Woundwort's power as an emperor. In other words, _we_ are a new threat to him…"

"So what are we going to do? Let's not forget, hunted or not, we are still trapped in this place," Fiver said, looking at the concrete walls surrounding them all around. Indeed, so far they had accomplished nothing other that just going sightseeing and learning the details of a dark secret of the past. If they couldn't find a way out, their discoveries would inevitably remain buried down here with them, which seemed more than likely now. Some however still held onto their hopes.

"Frith couldn't possibly have wanted us to discover all this and then for the secret to die with us. With El-ahrairah's guidance, we will find a way out. I know it!" Pipkin said encouragingly, unlike his usual skittish self. He smiled at the dwarf rabbit, seeing that the timid buck had finally understood the meaning of courage he had explained to him back on the riverbank. As if on queue, as Pipkin uttered those words, HAL's hologram image reappeared on the screen.

_"If you seek El-ahrairah's guidance, then why not seek it from him directly?"_

Like before, the image faded away like a ghost and the screen was blank and silent; then another image materialised; the image of a giant rabbit. Alan immediately recognised the golden-white fur and deep blue eyes from the waxwork they had found in the museum; they were staring at a holographic image of El-ahrairah, the Prince of Rabbits himself.

Although only a digital image generated by a computer, it was still the most breathtaking sight Alan had ever seen. El-ahrairah's appearance alone truly made him the ancestral mentor of all rabbits. He was tall and well built, with smooth, golden white fur, which seemed to gleam like silk in the sunlight. But his most stunning characteristic of all was his bright blue eyes, gleaming like emeralds, with a stare capable of penetrating the soul itself. However, in contrast to Hemlock's insane stare of power and hate, El-ahrairah's expressed kindness, love, friendship, and caring, all the factors that would _earn_ the loyalty of those around him. It was obvious that El-ahrairah had been a fierce fighter when he was alive, yet there didn't seem to be any brutality or hatred in his gentle demeanour. He was in essence a rabbit version of Jesus Christ, the messiah of his people.

"My…my Lord?" whispered Hazel in shock, as he and the other rabbits bowed respectfully before their ancestral mentor, probably thinking the image was alive. Alan followed their example in an impulse of courtesy, despite knowing it was just another video recording, as El-ahrairah smiled down at them, a twinkle visible in his stunning eyes.

_"Greetings my friends. To whoever is seeing this, I am talking to you at a time when my people and their friends are confronting their darkest hour. I am facing imminent death; but before the Black Rabbit of Inle comes for me, I am leaving behind this last message, in hopes of it will be found someday by my descendants, whom I am regretfully about to abandon at a time when they need me the most. This confession will serve as my final blow against Hemlock and the evil he intents to bring upon my people and our friends and allies."_ The all fell silent, listening to El-ahrairah's posthumous confession.

"_My mentor Cole, who created myself, my heart-brother and second-in-command Rubscuttle, my mate Laurel, and my friend-turned-nemesis Hemlock, did it in an act of pure heartiness: humans and rabbits were meant to share the new world together in peace and prosperity. My mentor used to tell me about the many atrocities inflicted upon animals and nature as a whole by corrupt humans of the Old World and the never-ending attempts of other honourable humans, to mend this void between Man and Mother Nature. The catastrophe of the Old World gave both man and animal the chance to start anew; this, he once confessed to me, was to honour the memories of his late colleague Alan Johnson and his family…"_ Alan gasped as at this.

"He created all this in _my _honour? But we were never really friends, only colleagues. Why would he want to do all this because of me?" However, he fell silent, as they continued to listen to El-ahrairah's message.

"_Unlike us, who also believed in making a peaceful and prosperous new start with humans, Hemlock didn't. In fact, he saw them as a threat; the only positive thought he ever had about them was of their astounding knowledge, which, he believed, could be instrumental in our rise to dominance alone. In short, he sought to eliminate Man altogether, making our kind the new, undisputed intelligent species on the Earth."_

"_I refused to believe he had such hate in him until he tried to turn us against Cole and his people; he began by spreading rumours that Cole had secretly created the elil that would hunt and slay us - making me the destined Prince With The Thousand Enemies - and that he was determined to punish Drake for his 'betrayal'. As it turned out, Cole had indeed done so, but, as he later explained, it had been for our benefit: with our uncontrollably multiplying numbers, our people would be facing famine and overpopulation within a few generations, eventually leading to our own self-destruction…"_ Turning to his friends, Alan saw they were muttering furiously among themselves; the realisation that the elil, which had plagued their kind for generations, yet keeping their numbers in check, which in turn prevented a catastrophic rabbit population explosion, was a bitter pill to swallow. As a scientist, Alan realised that since his friends were vegetarians, their overwhelming numbers would have quickly resulted in a ecological collapse of their environment, without predators to complete the natural cycle and creating a balance. Sure enough, El-ahrairah explained.

"_While we lived underground, waiting for Frith to return and bless the new world, Cole explained to me how nature works and the importance of each creature in it; although the existence of elil seems nothing but a curse upon our kind, in fact our existence depends on them. Without them, our descendants would multiply in such vast numbers, that we would quickly overpopulate the world and eventually starve ourselves to death, when there wouldn't be enough flayrah to sustain us all. Cole created the elil for a noble purpose; the homba, the nildel, the rowf, the pfeffa, the silici and the weasel exist to create a balance amongst our numbers. Even in the heart of darkness, a glow of good can be found."_ By now, the rabbits seemed on the verge of tears, realising El-ahrairah's difficult decision, to ensure a future for his people.

"_When I chose to side with Cole over Hemlock, he gave up all attempts of joining forces with me in his revolt, and marked me as another of his enemies. With the help of a traitor among Cole's people who had agreed to do Hemlock's biding in exchange for power, today he triumphed. I came to help, only to be ambushed by the enemy; now, as I await death, I have also learned that Rubscuttle, who also hated Cole for his actions and insisted we should be living apart, has chosen to sever all our people's ties with humans…"_

Alan felt dazed. There was no doubt any longer that Hemlock had indeed been the destroyer of the human race – and El-ahrairah's peaceful co-existence with it -, so he would rise as the new dominant creature on the Earth. But something still didn't add up; if he had triumphed, they why was his descendant lying low? Why hadn't Woundwort and his forefathers ever tried to expand their rule throughout the world, establishing colonies and outposts, like Hemlock had intended? What could they be missing? But there was something else far more important to worry about at this point.

"If Woundwort is indeed Hemlock's descendant, then we are in grave danger. If he finds out about us, he will definitely come after us; with what we know, we are a threat to his power, too great to be ignored." Alan felt his blood run cold, remembering the run-in with the Efrafan Patrol; if Vervain and his cronies had returned to Efrafa and told Woundwort about him, then it was probably only a matter of time before they would track them down and strike. Meanwhile, El-ahrairah had reached the end of his message.

"…_It seems a long and dark era lies ahead for my people; the world of peace I had hoped for will soon collapse into a divided world of animosity and fear. Although I had hoped to be the one to lead my people to ultimate victory, I entrust the task of resurrecting my legacy to whoever finds this message. My blessings to all of you and may Frith be with you all the way. Good luck and farewell."_ With that, the image faded away and there was only silence.

Alan checked his watch; it had been several hours since they had set off in search of a way out, "We better get back. The others will be wandering where we are. It seems we have a lot to discuss…" They left the ruined library and headed back to the control room, to rendezvous with the rest of their companions and tell them the awful truth they had just found out…

Meanwhile, a group of rabbits in the servitude of Hemlock's active descendant, escorted by an equally evil man, had arrived at Cowslip's warren. Robbins and General Woundwort, leading a Wide Patrol consisting of Vervain, Marjoram, Mallow and Avens, walked up to Cowslip. The sly rabbit, despite looking a bit weary of the sight of so many threatening-faced rabbits approaching, greeted them excitedly.

"Welcome back, old friend. I see you've brought some new friends with you too. How delightful. Will you be staying with us? My home is open to weary travellers…" he said, reciting his usual welcoming routine. Robbins took charge and addressed Cowslip in an even voice.

"No thanks Cowslip. My new friends and I have come to tend to our unfinished business with Alan and his band of heroes. Now then, where they are? Are they still here?" To his utmost dismay, Cowslip shook his head.

"Regretfully, it is a bit late for sweet revenge. They are dead," replied Cowslip with a sickening smile. "The savages got them just as I told you they would." Although he hadn't expected Alan and his friends to remain here after realising Cowslip's betrayal, Robbins had hoped maybe they would have postponed their departure for a few more days to gather supplies and recruits. Unfortunately, as it turned out, they had left in a hurry. Woundwort cast Robbins a dangerous frown for seemingly leading him here for nothing, but the man retained his composure.

"_Dead_?" said Robbins, suppressing a laugh, "Pardon my mirth Cowslip, but I happen to know Alan is much too crafty to fall for such a scheme. What happened?" Cowslip explained.

"After that hawk carried you off, they foolishly headed towards the human village to rescue their captured companions. They never came back…"

"Well, they wouldn't, would they?" Robbins said, rolling his eyes at Cowslip's naivety, "They had already gotten what they came here for."

"Yes, they did," Cowslip muttered with an angry frown, "Stole our food and kidnapped two of my people. After everything I did for them…"

"Then I suppose you would like to be instrumental in their downfall, if Robbins is right about them being still alive?" interrupted General Woundwort, sensing a useful alliance in Cowslip's thirst for revenge, "Unless of course, you'd rather I unleashed my forces against you and your warren for concealing my worst enemies?"

"Why, that would be so delightful," grinned the chubby buck, in his sickly sweet voice, visibly shuddering at Woundwort's threat. The evil warlord went on talking.

"Then, I suggest to show us the way to their last known location; if they survived the confrontation with those savage ithel, my troops will easily pick up their trail from there by scent. That should lead us directly to their new warren."

"How splendid. In that case, I'd be delighted to show you…"

After giving his visitors directions, Cowslip turned to return to the safety of his warren, feeling extremely satisfied with himself. Soon, he would have his revenge against those strangers who had threatened to ruin him. Before heading back underground, he cast a final look at his departing guests who were on their way to the human village to investigate. That was where they would soon discover that Alan and his friends had indeed escaped and were still headed for Watership Down.

Unbeknownst to any of them however, someone else had overheard their conversation, and was already on his way there, to warn the Watershippers of Woundwort's arrival. Having concealed himself behind some bushes close to the warren, Silverweed had been able to perform a minor penetration into Woundwort and Robbins' minds; sensing the madman's plan of using Project Black Inferno against Alan in revenge, and Woundwort's ambition of forcing his rule on the entire world by means of that vile human weapon, had shaken him to the core. Then he remembered what he had seen in Alan's mind during their encounter.

He hadn't told his master what he had seen inside Alan's mind, preferring to keep it to himself; true, his discovery of who these humans truly were, and what they had been up to, had caused him to panic, provoking the human's wrath in return. Silverweed was by no means, a brave rabbit; but now, seeing his insane master, who had spent a lifetime forcing him to use his powers for his own gain, going as far as to collaborate with those two scoundrels, who were planning something so vile, and so against rabbithood, was too much.

As the truth sunk in, Silverweed cursed himself for what he was; the lackey of a sick and twisted Chief, for whom he used his supernatural powers, to help Cowslip send other innocent rabbits to their deaths, in exchange for immunity, while those hlessil fought to _protect_ one another…

Finally, Silverweed made up his mind. Carefully slipping out of the boundaries of the warren, making sure he wasn't seen or heard, he set off to find those hlessil and warn them before Woundwort and Robbins caught up with them first. Using all the information he had obtained from Alan's mind as his guide, Silverweed set off in search of the 'high hills, where the wind carries every whisper'…

**Author's note:** Another Chapter is up! Oops, the calm before the storm has started! Brave yourselves for a bumpy ride and please review!


	22. Chapter 22 A Way out and a New Mission

Two lost and desperate rabbits were wondering aimlessly outside the Honeycomb, looking in vain for their companions. Boxwood and Haystack had gone out to silflay on the far side of the Down, while taking a break from the digging, while the others had held a Bobstones competition back at the warren. Some time later, they had returned to resume work, only to find the warren deserted; all of their companions had vanished without a trace.

At first, Boxwood and Haystack had figured the others had simply gone to take care of something and would be back soon. Hours later, when no one had showed up, the pair had started getting worried. How could their friends have just disappeared? _Why_ did they leave them? What could have happened?

Searching the warren, they had stumbled across the hole in the back burrow, where the others had fallen through. Soon, the horrible truth sunk in; Hazel-rah and their friends had had an accident while digging and had all been swallowed up into the depths of that pit forever. The Black Rabbit had taken them all, leaving them as the only two survivors.

Nightfall came but the two were still too frightened to go back inside. Instead, they settled down to sleep in scrapes outside the Honeycomb, like they were accustomed to doing as hlessil, wondering what would become of them now. Although they still had the warren to themselves and there was enough grass on the Down to keep them from going hungry until winter, how could they adjust to their new life on their own? What did two hlessil know about running a warren? Could they have kittens here, to rebuild their community, when there was no Owsla left to defend them from elil or enemies?

In spite of their miserable thoughts, they were exhausted and soon drifted down to sleep, snuggled up against each other to keep warm. Then, just before dawn, their sleep was interrupted by the arrival of some unwelcome visitors. Boxwood woke with a start to find himself pinned to the ground by a burly, savage-looking rabbit; a scream told him Haystack had been pinned as well. Nearby stood another skinny, dark-furred rabbit with evil eyes, who seemed to be the ringleader, "Frith is smiling on us today; we have found the outsiders' warren!" Boxwood came to his senses first as he retorted, "Who are you and what do you want with us?"

"I'd keep quiet and do as I am told if I were you outsider," sneered Vervain, "Unless you want to see your pretty doe hurt." A scream of pain from nearby told Boxwood his mate was being cuffed by her captor. At this, the buck saw red, "Leave her alone, you miserable scum…!" But Mallow, who was holding him down, gave him another cuff to silence him.

At that moment, another talking human they had never met before emerged from the warren; Robbins had retrieved his precious revolver but had been unable to find the safety key of Project Black Inferno, as Derek had been carrying it on him for safekeeping when he had fallen down the shaft. Some other souvenirs he had found included Alan's camera, containing photographs of each Watershiper, the men's notebooks, containing scribbled accounts of their adventures, among other useful information he could find some use for later. However, the Efrafan Patrol still hadn't found what they'd come looking for.

"We searched the whole warren sir; Marjoram says there is no one here but these two," said Avens, gesturing in the direction of their two prisoners. Vervain rounded on Boxwood, "Well outsider, _now_ you can talk; tell us, where are the rest of your friends? Where is your Chief? Where is the talking ithe? Speak and you may be spared." But Boxwood, realising it was the Efrafans come to hunt them down, quickly made up a story.

"We are just a pair of passing hlessil; we stumbled across this warren hoping to be admitted, only to find it deserted and decided to wait for the rabbits to return." Although Vervain seemed far from convinced, Robbins, who hadn't met Boxwood or Haystack before, seemed to buy the bluff, "I think they're telling the truth Vervain; I don't remember seeing them before and I always remember a face when I see one." Vervain groaned in frustration; they had found the outsider's warren but not the outsiders _themselves_. And to make matters worse, Robbins hadn't been able to recover the key; even though they had retrieved the cores from Cowslip's warren, which were currently being transported back to Efrafa under the supervision of Captain Campion, without the key, it would be useless. Robbins considered for a moment.

"Our mission is still incomplete," he said, "I want you, Mallow, Avens, Moneywort and Marjoram to stay here and wait for them to return, while I report back to the General. They probably have the key in their possession. I suggest you take hostages if you get the chance; they should be willing to bargain, to protect their friends' lives." After showing the three rabbits a photograph from his journal, which showed the key around Sergey's neck, so the Efrafans would know what they were looking for, Robbins departed to join Woundwort at his hiding place, the stone remains of Nuthanger Farm farmhouse, which still stood on a little hill a short distance away from the Down.

"What about these two?" asked Avens, gesturing at the struggling Boxwood and Haystack. Vervain sneered, "We have no use for them; they aren't the ones the General is interested in. They know nothing that we want to know and we can't burden ourselves with prisoners right now. Finish them off!"

The last thing Boxwood saw before Mallow's jaws connected with his jugular was Haystack's beautiful face, as his beloved mate joined him in death. After hiding the bodies as not to attract attention, Vervain and his patrol took up positions around the warren, waiting to ambush the outsiders when they returned.

Meanwhile, back underground, Alan and his search party had returned to the control room, rejoining McEwen's search party, whose search for an escape route had also been fruitless. Alan quickly launched into the story of what they had discovered; the massacre of the HAB's occupants, Hemlock's betrayal, and El-ahrairah's death at the hands of Sven Shertok, which had fuelled the animosity between humans and the lagomorphs. The others looked outraged at the murder of their Prince, realising that their kind's hatred of humans had only been the result of a madrabbit's scheme centuries ago.

"We can't deny it any longer," Hazel said, "Mankind created us as part of a new world we were meant to share together; unfortunately, that never came to pass because of Hemlock, who murdered his own creators, as well as El-ahrairah, causing our ancestors to turn against humans and driving us apart. Also, it seems that this General Woundwort is Hemlock's descendant, who is continuing his ancestor's evil work; conquering and destroying anything and anyone that opposes his power in any way."

"That siege you speak of would also explain this act of vandalism…" Derek said grimly, pointing at the massive glass cabinet housing the mainframe computer unit, which he had managed to force open. Alan noticed the circuit boards were all scorched and blackened, as if they had been exposed to intense heat; it seemed that Sven had sabotaged it to by shutting off the coolant flow, causing it to overheat and seize up, disabling all the security systems in the process, and allowing Hemlock to seize the HAB.

"All fried to a sizzle; we have no communications, no satellite link-ups, no life support, and no security systems; only the emergency and backup systems are still functional. And McEwen tells me the armoury is stripped; it looks like we won't be finding any means of defence down here any time soon…" He turned to the log computer, "While waiting for you to return, I managed to restore this last entry. It's not perfect but we should be able to get the jest out of it. Behold." Drake appeared on the screen again, fading in and out of focus between fragments of the broken video recording, looking battered and utterly desperate.

"_My worst fears have been realised. After El-ahrairah, Rubscuttle and Laurel left to establish a warren, Hemlock chose to remain behind, to act as our liaison between El-ahrairah's people and ours. The traitorous scum finally showed his true colours today… It appears he had been planning this moment for quite some time with the help of our chief engineer Sven Shertok, who was revealed to be a former member of the infamous Red Hand Brotherhood, which was dismantled years ago, making another bid for power… The mentally disturbed children, which had mysteriously gone missing some time ago, have become his muscle, mentally trained like bloodhounds to hunt us down… Last night, they struck…" _

"…_By poisoning the HAB's water supply, everyone stationed there was killed, except for me, who managed to brew an antidote in time. Unfortunately, it was already too late to stop them… They then summoned back our scouting missions, leading them straight into a death trap, in the form of a rigged bomb in the Observation Dome… The few remaining survivors were all rounded up for execution. In addition, our library, housing all the remaining copies of books from our old world, has also been destroyed…" _

"_El-ahrairah's warren was also seized; he and Laurel were both killed… My ties with the lagomorphs have been broken, as they hold me responsible for the death of their Chief and his mate. Rubscuttle and the others have fled, swearing never to trust humans again, leaving me on my own… I feel like the last remaining human on earth and the time has come to take drastic measures for the future…" _

"…_I intend to make one last desperate attempt to protect El-ahrairah's descendants from Hemlock, who is now coming after me… The HAB is fitted with a siege countermeasure gassing system, which will serve that purpose… After I have finished this entry, I intend to seal it in a time capsule in hopes that it will be found someday and help mend the breach between humans and the lagomorphs that now dominate the planet. As for Hemlock, I intend to confront him one last time and perish with him, ending his dark legacy. With his death, I hope to give El-ahrairah's descendants a chance for a peaceful… AAARGHHH…!"_

Suddenly, Drake was knocked violently to the floor by the large paw of a figure who had snuck up on him, and was lost from view. Several gunshots were heard along with the sound of breaking glass, as Drake emptied his pistol on Hemlock. A roar of pain was heard as one bullet found its mark, followed by a loud thud as the savage rabbit knocked the revolver out of Drake's hand before he could finish the job. They all watched in horror as Hemlock gave a triumphant snarl, towering over his soon-to-be victim. They could hear Drake moaning and panting,_ "So…you're going to kill me now, like you did to El-ahrairah and the others?"_ he asked, as his attacker fell upon him, like a wild animal going for the kill.

"_No Drake, much to my eternal disgrace, you are still my creator. However, I cannot let you stand in my way any longer; the time has come for me to pursue my true destiny. Your pitiful attempt to destroy me is of no consequence anyway, as I already have an heir to continue my work after I am gone. Mark my words Drake, someday, the last of El-ahrairah's people still out there will be enslaved and my legacy will triumph. As for your kind, your death will mark the end of the existence of intelligent humans and the birth of the planet of the rabbits! Your savage counterparts I used to overthrow you will continue to live on as a reminder to your dear El-ahrairah's memory, to be feared and despised by El-ahrairah's people who once worshipped them. Farewell, 'father'!"_

With that, he delivered another blow, this time driving his claws straight into Drake's face. Alan and his companions winced as they saw Hemlock's gigantic paw sweep by the camera again, Drake's grouched-out eyeball skewered onto the middle claw, the man's screams of agony ringing over the video soundtrack, before the camera was smashed and the screen faded into naked binary code.

Whether or not Hemlock managed to escape Drake's gas trap, they didn't know, nor did it matter; the tyrant's last words alone had told them everything they needed to know. Hemlock's legacy survived and remained strong to this day, while El-ahrairah's was dying out, its last remnants preserved only by the few scattered warrens on the edge of the Dark Territory, where Rabscuttle and the rest of El-ahrairah's people had fled. Alan sighed grimly, "Well, I guess one mystery has been wrapped up nicely…"

"So what do we do now Hazel-rah?" asked Bluebell, turning to his Chief, "It appears we have made ourselves a deadly enemy and meanwhile we are still trapped down here; unless we can find a way out, I daresay fate will be saving Woundwort the trouble…" Alan, also realising the responsibility that now rested on their shoulders, turned to his friends.

"I believe it is time we took some drastic action ourselves; Drake left all this information behind for us to find and finish the job he couldn't." He turned to McEwen, "Did you find another way out?"

"Nothing; the only route to the surface is the elevator shaft and it's inaccessible. It is like being trapped in a glass bubble," said McEwen grimly, "However, we found most of the storerooms are still well stocked; we have enough emergency supplies to hold out for quite a while, as well as all the tools we need to _dig_ a new escape route if we have to…" Alan considered for a moment; McEwen had a sound plan, although the idea of living on 700-year-old freeze-dried rations, until they could construct another exit, which could take several months, sounded rather optimistic. Derek, however, shook his head.

"The facility's water supply is out. The system relied on the mainframe computer to operate the pumps which used to drew water from underground, and the reservoirs are all dry; we'd all dehydrate down here within days. I have a better idea. Look at this…" He brought up the digital schematic of the facility on another screen he had dusted clean and zoomed in on the underside of the structure; Alan could see the solid rock and earth of the Down, marked in false colour, engulfing it like a tomb from all sides. But no, there was something else…

"There is some sort of pipeline linked between the HAB and the river," he explained, pointing at the barely visible pipe, which resembled an oil line, running from the bottom of the infrastructure, all the way to the new river at the foot of the Down. Derek turned to a bundle of papers he had strewn out on a nearby control panel and unfolded one, which was the engineering blueprint of the HAB's water supply. He pointed to some sort of tank in the Engineering compartment, where the pipeline started.

"You see, this pipe draws water from the river into this tank; according to the figures on this schematic, the pipe is wide enough for a human being to squeeze through. It also says there is a maintenance access hatch to the tank; we can find, make our way through that pipe, and swim out through the river, using our oxygen bottles to breathe. Piece of cake…" However, nobody seemed the least keen on the engineer's plan of escape.

"You mean we swim out through the plumbing?" asked McEwen incredulously, "How do we know the pipe outlet isn't blocked up after all these years? If it dead-ends underground, anyone who tries swimming through it is dead…" Unfortunately, there was no other alternative, so they finally decided to place their faith in Derek's knowledge of machines and hope for the best.

Taking only Drake's revolver, the trinkets they had salvaged from the HAB's compartments, and the copy of the video log which Derek had saved onto his phone with them, Alan led the way out of the control room, through the atrium, down a stairwell, deep into the facility, towards the engine room. At the foot of the stairs, they came to a slide-door leading down to Level 4, with red letters spelling:

RESTRICTED AREAS – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY!

Making their way down a circular flight of stairs, into a massive storeroom; massive vaults and crates were pilled in rows along the floor containing equipment and supplies meant for rebuilding civilisation, only humanity hadn't survived long enough to rebuild.

_So much wasted planning and resources for rebuilding a world_, thought Alan, staring at all these wasted goods. Moving on through another door, and down a passage, they finally came to the facility's engineering compartment. Catwalks and ladders provided easy access to the towering machinery of the facility's elaborate powerhouse, which provided light, heat, and power for the recycling units, creating a habitable underground environment for the HAB's occupants.

Derek's eyes were wide as saucers, his mouth agape at the wonderful sight of all this state-of-the-art machinery crowding the room; this, combined with all the tools and workshops housed down here, Derek was in his version of heaven. Although most of the machinery was shut down and out of order, some was still running on the emergency power, judging by the rows of illuminated control panels and circuit breakers.

It didn't take them long to find the tank, embedded under the concrete floor of the engine compartment. Several pipes and valves protruded from the floor beside the hatch, used for pumping water into the HAB's reservoirs. The hatch once used by the engineering crew to conduct repairs inside, was fitted in the floor, bearing the words:

WARNING! PRESSURISED CHAMBER. KEEP SEALED AT ALL TIMES.

But, opening it, they saw, to their utmost disappointment, it was bone dry; the openings of the pump pipes were visible along the walls; another sealed hatchway could be seen against the outer wall, which was the opening to the main waterline. They had found their escape route all right, only it was sealed tight, with no visible handles or control levers to open it, least of all any indication if the pipe on the other side was still accessible. They were stuck.

"So what do we do now?" Acorn muttered in disappointment, "Dead end…" The others also sighed, their hopes of escaping from this underground prison plummeting. The does begun to sob. Perhaps Derek had been mistaken? Their engineer however had patiently turned to a nearby control panel, studying the crumpled system schematic he had brought with him from the control room.

"This is it, fellas and girls!" he said excitedly, "The pipe hatch is operated from here all right; the water is pumped into the tank by gravity, so we needn't worry about restoring power to the pumps. All we need is to reroute enough power from the emergency circuit to jump-start the hatch control switch…"

"…And then, it's just a matter of growing gills and literally flushing ourselves down a drain pipe…" Alan finished for him, rolling his eyes at the insanity of his friend's plan. There was no point in denying it; no rabbit could possibly swim through, what probably was, some hundred feet of flooded piping! Even if he, Derek and McEwen could make it through somehow, they would be forced to leave the others behind. To make matters worse, they only had three oxygen bottles, with about two or three minutes of air left each. This time, their good luck had failed them. Unless…

"I have an idea; the elevator shaft we came through, although impossible to _climb up_, is still accessible from _above_. How about if I try swimming through here _alone_?" he suggested, "The additional air from all three bottles should suffice for one person. If I make it through, I can return to the Honeycomb and lower a rope for the rest of you to climb up. Piece of cake."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Hazel asked doubtfully, "It looks very dangerous. What if you get trapped in there or can't make it out before you run out of breath?"

"We don't have much choice Hazel. Besides, I've done this sort of thing before; it's not as difficult as it looks." True, Alan was an experienced diver and could easily swim through 150ft of water on a single breath; however, this time he knew it would be very different as he was going to take the risk of swimming down a pipe, which was very easily be caved in or blocked halfway through. If he hit a dead end in there, he wouldn't be able to turn around, and it would mean certain death. There wasn't even any guarantee that the outer hatch would open at all, but it was the only way.

"All right, it's worth a shot. Let's get on with it then."

"I think l should come with you," said Bluebell stepping forward, "I was the best swimmer back at Sandleford. Besides, two of us stand a better chance than one." Alan and several of the rabbits, most notably Violet, stared at the jokester rabbit in shock.

"No! Absolutely not!"

"Don't start with your blasted nobilities again!" Bigwig snapped, surprising everyone, before Alan could protest again, "You were lucky to get away with it last time you decided to play the hero. I would have insisted on accompanying you myself if I weren't second best to Bluebell in the water. He may not be much of a fighter, but he is a natural-born water-rabbit." He cast Bluebell a wink, which the buck returned gratefully.

"But Bigwig…" Alan was about to protest again, but then reconsidered; although he hated the responsibility of having to watch out for Bluebell, who apparently had no idea what he was going up against, not to mention would cut his limited air supply in half, he suddenly realised that a rabbit backup could be important, especially if they encountered a cave-in going through that squeeze, which would require a swift and naturally-born digger to clear a way forward, as there would be no turning around in that pipe. Finally, he sighed in defeat.

"Very well, Bluebell can come with me. Deke, see if you can figure out how to jump-start that thing. Bluebell, you listen carefully at what you have to do down there…"

He had just about finished explaining to Bluebell the basic safety rules of diving, when Derek approached them, "Everything is set. But remember, once we break that seal, we won't be able to repressurise again; the maintenance hatch will have to be sealed before we open the valve or the entire facility could flood like an aquarium." Alan paled as he realised that if the pipe choked up down there, he and Bluebell would be doomed for sure. But there was little they could do about it at this point.

While Derek set the control valves, Alan took off his vest and shoes, and then climbed down into the tank, before helping Bluebell down as well. McEwen then passed him their oxygen bottles from the Cessna and their flashlights. Before Alan could signal Derek to close the hatch however, Violet summoned him close and whispered into his ear.

"Alan, please look after Bluebell for me. Make sure he doesn't get hurt." Alan smiled up at the doe and patted her gently between the ears, "Have faith in me sweetheart. Everything will be fine, I promise." He climbed back down into the tank and Derek closed the hatch above their heads, sealing it tight; they could still see the faces of their companions looking nervously down at them through the observation porthole. Trying to banish the thought of never seeing those loving faces again from his mind, Alan prepared to get wet.

"Got a soft spot for my doe, have you?" Bluebell said teasingly, probably to brighten the mood, as Alan strapped the second bottle over the buck's shoulders with some cord, "I'll have to beat the hraka out of you, old chap." Alan playfully nudged the brownish rabbit on the side, before placing the mouthpiece over Bluebell's mouth, cutting off any more of his jokes. Securing his own bottle, and the spare, which they would share if need be, to his belt, and turned on the airflow; the pressure gauges rose to about one third full capacity, equivalent to about three minutes of air each.

"Lie flat against the wall and brace yourself, because when that damn hatch pops open, hell will break loose in here. Once the water settles, swim like hell through that pipe and don't stop for anything; if you hit a cave-in, I am counting on you to dig us through it. And once we are out, start kicking for the surface but be careful you don't go any faster than the bubbles escaping from your mouth, or you'll get the bends. Whatever you do, don't hold your breath; just exhale nice and slowly as you go up. Understood?" Bluebell nodded, looking rather weary of the dangers Alan had just described. The man turned and gave Derek the thumbs up before bracing himself against the wall, facing the outer hatch, "Get ready! Here we go…"

Up top, Derek touched the wires of the dismantled panel he had been working on, to trigger the hatch release; a faint buzzing noise was heard and the lights in the chamber went dim for an instant, as the system struggled with the reduced power feed, but the hatch didn't budge. He tried it a second and a third time, but to no avail. Holly turned to him anxiously, "What's wrong?"

"There must be a short in one of these damn wires," Derek hissed in frustration as he hastily tried rerouting the circuitry in the panel in an attempt to bypass the malfunctioning system.

Meanwhile, inside the tank, Alan, also seeing the outer hatch refusing to budge, was starting to get anxious. What was happening? He could hear a faint whirring sound, which was the electric motor that turned the hatch's hydraulic latch, struggling to break the seal, but nothing happened. Bluebell, also realising something was wrong, was about to crawl up to the hatch for a closer look, but Alan held him back.

"Keep away from that hatch! It could burst open at any time…!" Before the words had even passed his lips, the seal finally cracked and the hatch popped open; a massive torrent of water shot into the tank under high pressure, slamming them both against the wall, swamping them. Before they knew what was happening, the tank was filled to the top, and they both found themselves submerged in the silted-up water, their oxygen bottles fortunately sustaining them.

Alan suddenly realised that Bluebell was in trouble; while he had instinctively equalised his ears during the pressure build-up, Bluebell, who didn't know how, was in agony, his eardrums about to implode. The buck was violently trashing about, his cries of pain muffled by the water. His air mask had fallen off his face in his panic so the rabbit was on the verge of drowning.

Hastily grabbing him in his embrace, Alan did the only thing he could think of; holding the buck against him so they were face-to-face, he pinched Bluebell's nostrils shut with one hand and with the other brought the buck's mouth towards his. Taking a deep breath, he removed the mouthpiece of his own tank and proceeded to exhale down Bluebell's throat, equalising the pressure in the buck's eardrums. Bluebell continued thrashing violently, terrified by what Alan was doing to him, but then relaxed as the pain eased up.

Meanwhile, Violet, who was watching the whole thing through the observation porthole, had gone hysteric, "Oh Frith, they're drowning! Get them out of there!" she shrieked, tears of desperation flowing from her face. She started clawing desperately on the glass hatch, trying to force it open but McEwen held her back,

"Keep off! The hatch can't open when the tank is flooded; it would drown us all! Shaw, can't you bloody well do something?" he bellowed at Derek, who was still trying to get the hatch closed and drain the tank, but without success. Suddenly, Pipkin called out, "Look, they've made it! They are going through!" Looking back down, they all cheered, sighing with relief as they watched Alan and Bluebell disappear down the pipe, on their way to freedom…

Meanwhile, inside the tank, Alan and Bluebell, now both safely donning their masks, made their way into the pipe. Although rather narrow, hardly the size of a sewer tunnel, it was wide enough to accommodate them both, as they swam side by side for freedom…and for their lives. Alan's flashlight revealed an empty tunnel ahead, dark and murky with silt and rust, but still accessible. Although only a short distance to the river, down here the tunnel seemed to go on forever, with no sign of sunlight up ahead, as both man and rabbit struggled with their sense of claustrophobia and entrapment as they pressed on.

They had barely made it halfway – or so Alan hoped it was – before their air supply started giving out. Bluebell's tank, whose owner had the least experience with controlled breathing, was the first to run out; Alan noticed the buck's breathing suddenly become erratic, as the buck helplessly tried sucking up non-existent air from the shrunken mask of his empty bottle. Quickly replacing it with the spare, before Bluebell could have another panic attack, he glanced at his own: it read just over a minute. Time was running short for both of them and there was still no sign of the river…

Then suddenly, he saw it! Up ahead, a small patch of blue appeared against the blackness of the tunnel; freedom was less than ten meters away! But as they swam up to the opening, they found it choked up with sand and rock from the riverbed, which had piled up against the crushed grillwork filter over the years. The opening was too narrow for either of them to squeeze through.

Struggling to remain calm, to conserve their remaining oxygen, the pair attacked the landslide, struggling to clear the way out. With Bluebell tearing into the rubble with his forepaws, his natural digging instincts kicking in, Alan dragged away the loose stones, silently preying that the disturbance wouldn't cause another landslide that would bury them for good.

They had nearly finished, when Bluebell suddenly started thrashing about again; his air supply had run out. With his own about to go any second now, Alan continued heaving away stones and earth, using the best controlled breathing he could muster, to expend his dwindling air supply for as long as possible. With Bluebell drowning beside him, he was finally able to heave the last rock aside, clearing the opening.

Grabbing the still thrashing Bluebell by the scruff of his neck, he pushed him out through the squeeze. He was just about to squeeze through himself when he felt the plastic cup of his mask flatten itself against his mouth as he tried to take a breath. Glancing at his bottle's pressure gauge, he realised his air supply was also depleted. Discarding the now useless bottle, he put all his strength into it and squeezed out through the narrow opening, ignoring the pain from the jagged stones grazing his arms and shoulders, blooding him up.

Quickly getting back his bearings, he frantically looked around for Bluebell; the buck was floating a short distance away, no longer struggling, and unresponsive, his face frozen in an expression of shock and agony often observed in a drowned person – or in this case, a humanoid rabbit. Close to drowning himself, Alan quickly swam up to him and, gripping him tight with one arm, kicked towards the surface.

Just as he felt his lungs about to burst, his head broke the surface of the water; he inhaled large gulps of fresh air, all the while trying to keep Bluebell's face above water. He had done it; he was out. As Derek had said, he had come out in the river at the foot of the Down, where he had enjoyed a swim with Pipkin and Fiver the other day.

Keeping Bluebell's head above water, Alan furiously swam for shore. Gently laying the buck down on the pebbled shore, he checked his vitals; he still had an erratic pulse but wasn't breathing, the water he had inhaled having caused his lungs to seize. He had drowned.

Working frantically, he laid Bluebell down flat on his stomach, in the Holger Nielsen position. Knowing he only had a few minutes before the last spark of life within the rabbit's body would die out, he started applying pressure to the back and forward limbs, struggling to resuscitate him. For a few minutes nothing happened and Alan feared he might be too late; then, suddenly, the seemingly lifeless Bluebell sprang back to consciousness, coughing up mouthfuls of water and froth, going into a chocking fit.

"Are you all right Bluebell? Can you hear me?" he asked, gently slapping the buck on the shoulders, to help him cough up the last of the water that was obstructing his airway. Slowly, the buck relaxed as he returned to full consciousness.

"No…I don't think so. I think I am all right," Bluebell moaned, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself. Alan breathed a sigh of relief; Bluebell had been lucky. The buck looked up to him, nodding in gratitude, "Thanks for the save. You _were_ right; rabbits and water don't mix… What in Frith's were you doing down there, trying to bite my face?" he asked, remembering Alan desperately trying to equalise his ears for him by breathing down his throat.

"Didn't have much choice buddy," the man said, raising an eyebrow, "If I told Violet I let you drown just for the sake of your _dignity_ if you catch my meaning -, she would have drowned me in return. You know your mate has a fiery temper tucked under her charms?" he said, causing Bluebell to smirk in amusement, "Come on, let's get back to the Honeycomb. The others must be waiting for us."

They made their way out of the canyon and up the southern side of the Down, heading straight towards the warren. By this time, Alan had realised it was morning; they had spent the whole night down in the HAB, looking for a way out. Although relieved to finally be out, not to mention the story they would soon be sharing with their companions, it didn't take them long to notice the absence of Boxwood and Haystack.

"Hallo? Boxwood? Haystack? We're back! Where are you, guys?" There was no reply, making Alan start to feel suspicious; why would Boxwood and Haystack take off after they had disappeared? Perhaps they had gone to find help? Then again, where could they turn to, as they had no neighbours other than Cowslip and the Efrafans? Had something happened?

They entered the deserted Honeycomb, and headed for the back burrow where the shaft was. Alan hurried into the burrow he was sharing with Derek and McEwen, to find the rope; he frowned as he noticed their belongings scattered across the floor, indicating that some intruder had been here. Sure enough, he noticed Bluebell sniffing the air suspiciously, "By Frith, strangers were here while we were gone! Their scent is still fresh." But this wasn't the time to investigate, not with their companions still trapped below. Hurrying over to a nearby pillar, he secured one end of the rope in a fireman's knot and tossed the other end over the edge of the shaft; he saw the rope instantly tighten as their companions, waiting below, grabbed hold of it.

Meanwhile, outside the Honeycomb, Vervain and his Patrol slowly approached the entrance; they had seen the two outsiders return and had assumed they were the only ones that had made it out of Cowslip's warren alive. Vervain turned to his squad, "This is our chance. You lot get into position; once I come out, we strike! And remember, the General wants the ithe _alive_, so he can be made to talk…"

While Mallow, Avens, Marjoram and Moneywort took positions outside to spring an ambush, Vervain crept into the Honeycomb, intent on spying on the outsiders up close, to make sure they had them outnumbered and were preparing no surprises, before he ordered his Patrol to storm the place and capture them, dead or alive. General Woundwort would soon be rewarding him handsomely…

Down in the Honeycomb, Alan and Bluebell had just finished pulling the last of their friends from their underground prison. Derek had attached a haversack to the end of the rope, so the rabbits could be safely brought up in it, one by one. Pipkin, Fiver, Clover, Violet, Hazel and Bigwig all were safely up; Violet, who had kept her eyes closed throughout the entire ride in fright, had thrown herself at Bluebell, giving Alan a wink of gratitude; Clover, puzzled at the absence of her two friends, had gone out in search of Boxwood and Haystack. Fiver glanced back down the hole that led to the once again deserted HAB, still alight from its restored power source.

"You know, not long ago, we were trapped down there, believing we were doomed to die. Now, that mysterious place is part of our warren and holds all the secrets of our forefathers'. Strange how things turn out for us."

"Strange indeed Fiver. Not only has that place preserved the legacy of our ancestors, but also contains everything we need to build a new world," Alan said, his hopes high. Just a quick glance of all the supplies and facilities down there, it was clear that they now had all the resources they could ask for; their original plans of having to construct everything from scratch had just been rendered moot. Combined with the fact that he and Derek were scientists, their colony would be making progress in no time at all. Like the Rats of NIMH, the humanoid rabbits of Watership Down, with their human-level intelligence, would soon have the power to create an advanced civilisation of their own. Farming, and building, and science, and technology… With the HAB's tools, library, and resources, the world of the 21st century would soon be resurrected, only for the better, just like El-ahrairah and Drake had intended.

There was no time to rejoice over the prospects of the future however, as they quickly informed the others of Boxwood and Haystack's disappearance, and the evidence that an unknown intruder had ransacked the place here while they had been trapped below. The rabbits were stunned.

"Someone else was here? There hasn't been so much as a sniff of other rabbits since we got here," said Holly as they all grasped the fact that their home had been invaded by some unwelcome visitor in their absence, undoubtedly with dark intentions in mind, "You don't think it was an Efrafan Patrol…?"

"Look, the revolver is gone!" said Derek, who had just finished going through the mess in their ransacked sleeping quarters, "Our notes and camera have also been stolen! Why, this looks like someone has been turning this place upside-down for information! What the hell is going on here…?" Alan was stunned at this new development; how could the Efrafans recognise a gun or read notes, like humans? Bigwig suddenly snapped them all back to reality.

"Quiet, all of you!" The mighty veteran was sniffing the air, having picked up a new scent in the breeze coming from the entrance run; his mouth instantly curled into a frown, his eyes narrowed, as he whispered, "I think our intruder might not have left yet…" With Bigwig in the lead, they crept back to the main chamber to investigate; for an instant, Alan thought he must have imagined it, but then they all suddenly heard it: a faint whimper of fear coming from a shadowy corner behind a pillar. Lighting his flashlight, he saw a tall skinny rabbit with pointed ears that had been hiding in the shadows behind the pillar. It was Vervain.

"Well, well, well…" Alan said coldly, facing the intruder who had just been caught red-handed, "What have we got here then? Let me guess… Spring cleaning?" Vervain, with a squeal of fear, bolted for the exit as fast as his skinny legs would carry him; but as he reached the exit, he collided painfully with Bigwig who jumped in front of the run, blocking his escape. Struggling to control his panic, the Efrafan rabbit backed away into a corner, as they advanced on him. Alan grabbed Vervain by the neck and pinned him to the wall.

"So, you thought you'd come and spy on us so you can report some nice, juicy information back to your master, didn't you Vervain, huh?" he spat in Vervain's face, his eyes narrowed in hatred, "Looks like I will have to kill you after all." He pulled out his knife and pointed the tip of the blade under Vervain's chin. The evil rabbit gulped in fear, his eyes round as marbles, realising he was about to become dead meat, so he couldn't reveal the location of the outsiders' lair to his master.

"No! Wait! Please…Think of my mate and kittens…!" Vervain pleaded, looking scared to death, furiously trying to think of something to keep the outsiders talking long enough until his Patrol could come to his aid. It would have been very amusing, if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"Spare us that rot, no doe in her right mind would want you as her mate!" Bigwig snarled, staring at Vervain with intense hatred, Alan's description of Vervain's abusive nature not having slipped his mind, "You are just the lackey of a murderer out to kill us! And we don't take kindly to scoundrels like you…"

"What are you doing here?" Hazel asked sternly, exercising his authority as Chief, while Alan maintained a firm grip on Vervain so they could interrogate him, "What are you looking for? And what have you done with our friends?"

"I think I can answer that," interrupted Derek, holding up the bomb key he had confiscated from Robbins back at the graveyard. Suspicion instantly hit Alan as he turned back to Vervain; sure enough, he saw the evil rabbit, despite his fear of having been caught by the enemy, had his eyes fixed on the key in silent recognition. That alone, told Alan everything he needed to know.

"So _that's_ what you were after? What the hell do you want that for? And how did you know what it was? Answer me! And don't you dare try and lie to me, or else…" Still grasping Vervain by the neck, he carried him over the rim of the shaft and dangled him over the edge - a good 300ft drop to a nasty death, "Nobody here would make much of a fuss if you broke your neck down there, so I suggest you start explaining." His survival instincts winning out against his fanatic loyalty to Woundwort, Vervain spilled the beans.

"I was sent by General Woundwort to retrieve that key and bring it to him; there is a weapon your kind built long ago buried in Efrafa and the General wants to use it to destroy you and any other adversary. Please, just let me go, I've told you everything I know…" But Vervain's words had chilled Alan to the bones, as the impossible seemed to unfold before his very eyes.

_He knows! Woundwort knows about Project Black Inferno! But how is that possible…? _

But there was no point on hypothesizing how Woundwort knew all this, as the horrible reality of their situation sunk in. Knowing Woundwort's paranoid mind, the mad dictator would stop at nothing to take such a useful asset under his control; and this cowardly creature had literally sealed their doom by telling his insane master about them. The sounds of gasps and growls behind him told Alan that his companions also realised what serious trouble they were in now. Anger boiling up inside him, he turned back to Vervain in a cold rage.

"Have you any idea what you have done, you despicable worm? You are going to get us all killed, you miserable son of a bitch!" he spat furiously. "I should kill you right here for this…!"

"Yes, what gives him the right to live when this scumbag is out gambling with our lives? I say we finish him off right here and now!" shouted Derek, "Gut the bastard, Alan!"

"No need for that old chap. I will deal with this back-scratching coward myself!" Bigwig growled as he advanced forward, looking more capable of murder than Alan had ever seen him before, the rest of his Owsla following suit.

"Kill that miserable wench! Bury him alive! Drown him! Tear him to pieces! Feed him to the elil!" they shouted as they advanced on Vervain, who seemed about to faint in fear. Only some loud shouting and stamping from Hazel and Fiver managed to restore order.

"Calm down everyone! Arguing over who should kill Vervain won't do us any good now…"

"It would be giving him his just desserts though…!" retorted Acorn, staring at Vervain with distaste.

"Silence! I said that's enough!" boomed Hazel and they all fell silent, as Alan, realising something didn't add up, continued questioning Vervain, "How did you learn about the satellite and where to find us? Have you been following us all this time? But one of us would have picked up your scent if you had come close enough to spy… How did you do it?" Vervain seemed to be trying to avoid answering; obviously it involved revealing some deep, dark secret of his master's.

"I…I dare not tell you. If the General finds out, he'll rip my throat out!" Vervain pleaded pitifully but Alan only smirked at the irony, "Then I could always save him the trouble. I am warning you Vervain; if you want any chance of saving your stinking skin, you better tell us what we want to know right now!" Trembling, Vervain explained.

"I didn't tell the General anything about you or this weapon, I swear! It wasn't _me_ who betrayed you, it was…" But before he could say the name, a scream was suddenly heard outside; Clover and the rest of the does, who had gone out in search of Boxwood and Haystack, seemed to be in trouble. Taking advantage of that instant distraction, Vervain slashed Alan across the chest, tearing a slash in his shirt that started oozing out blood. Alan groaned in pain and dropped Vervain; in a flash, the sneaky rabbit had darted for the exit, snatching the key from an unsuspecting Derek's hand as he run by, and disappeared outside.

"After him! He has taken the key!" They all rushed in pursuit of Vervain; but as they stepped outside, a horrible sight met their eyes. Vervain hadn't come alone; there were several more Efrafan soldiers on the Down, two of which Alan instantly recognised as Avens and Mallow. While they had been preoccupied with Vervain, his thugs had ambushed the does outside; each of them now lay pinned beneath their Efrafan assailants, using them as hostages.

Vervain sneered maliciously as he commanded, "Kill those does, then follow me!" Without another word, he fled down the hill, not looking back, taking the key with him, leaving his associates to cover his escape by means of their hostages.

Taking their mind off the escaping Vervain, the Watershipers fell upon the Efrafans, before they could harm their does; with a wild roar, Avens was knocked off of Clover by Holly, who bellowed, "Touch her again and I'll rip you to shreds!" Violet and Nildrohein, also freed, quickly ran to safety, while the bucks continued fighting the enemy. Despite having lost the advantage of hostages, the Efrafans didn't seem too keen in giving up without a fight, and, in an instant, the Down had become a battlefield. The Efrafans fought fearlessly and savagely, their superior Owsla training apparent; but the Watershipers greatly outnumbered them, and were quickly gaining the upper hand.

The Efrafans continued fighting ruthlessly, ignoring their injuries; but combined with Acorn, Buckthorn, Speedwell, Holly, Silver, Blackberry, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Bluebell, Strawberry and Hazel, they were fighting to the death and soon began to fall. Just as Alan struck down Marjoram, he noticed Mallow slip away from the fight and into the Honeycomb. Realising he was going to try and take another hostage, he broke away from the fight and followed the rabbit below, "Oh no, you don't."

Hurrying in, he saw Mallow had knocked down Violet and was approaching a terrified Pipkin who was cowering behind Fiver, also looking terrified at the sight of the large rabbit advancing on them; neither he nor Pipkin were any match for him. Mallow was sneering with sickening delight.

Your human friend is no longer around to protect you, is he? Let's see if I can deliver a little message to him, by ripping the two of you to shreds; I hear it crushes his spirit when his beloved ones die on his account," he sneered gleefully, towering over the two terrified rabbits that shrank back against the wall. Not wasting any time, Alan threw himself onto Mallow's back, knocking him to the ground, before he could hurt Fiver and Pipkin. However, the Owsla rabbit instinctively rolled over, knocking Alan off of him. The two were soon engaged in a furious fight, one trying to kill the other.

"So, we meet again, ithe. General Woundwort was right; your love for your pathetic friends _is_ your greatest weakness. Just you wait; he will have an easy time on you, as he slaughters all your weakling friends, one by one, with you forced to watch and powerless to help," Mallow sneered as he dodged a blow from Alan's knife, knocking it out of the man's hand. But being accustomed to having mind games played on him, Alan only returned the torment.

"That's rich, coming from someone who is the lapdog of a cowardly murderer, who sends his minions to do his dirty work for him. Not that _you_ display any better courage yourself, attacking two rabbits half your size. How does it feel, being _second best_ to a coward?" he asked, mocking Mallow, whose face twisted with hate and rage. He launched another attack on Alan, who, having braced himself this time, dodged the blow and delivered a powerful right hook straight into Mallow's eye, causing the fierce rabbit to stagger backwards, howling in agony. But Mallow wasn't giving up yet; his next blow found Alan in the gut, sending him crumpling to the floor.

Recovering from the pain, Alan looked up and saw Mallow standing right above him, raising his strong paw, about to deliver the fatal blow, "You time is over, you troublesome ithe. Send my regards to the Black Rabbit of Inle!" But before he could crush Alan's skull, the man felt something slide across the floor at him. An instant surge of power shot through him as he felt his knife clutched into his hand. In a flash, he swung the weapon at Mallow, slitting open his attacker's throat; the evil rabbit gargled, chocking up blood before his eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the ground dead. Alan lay down, taking deep breaths, his heart beating a mile a minute. Soon, he felt someone move over him and started licking his face, cleaning the bruises Mallow had given him. Weakly, he opened his eyes and saw his rabbit friends standing over him, looking worried, "Alan, speak to me! Can you hear me?"

"Y…yes, I hear you Hazel. I think I am alright," Alan muttered, feeling like he had a bullet in his abdomen. With the help of Silver and Bigwig, he managed to stand, as he fought the urge to vomit, "Is everyone all right?" Unfortunately, their sober expressions told him that there was bad news.

"We found Boxwood and Haystack nearby; they are both dead. Those Efrafans must have found them alone and killed them to keep them quiet. "They all turned to look at Clover, who was sobbing softly for the deaths of her closest friends. Holly gently nuzzled her on the cheek to calm her, "This ambush was undoubtedly meant for us; only they apparently didn't expect to be so many of us, otherwise they would have sent their whole Owsla in."

"That Vervain seems to be the most sly, cowardly piece of work I have ever seen," the former Sandleford captain of Owsla commented, anger and disgust written on his face. Seeing Vervain order his patrol to kill the does as a distraction to let him escape, aside from being a highly repulsive act of cowardice, was a serious breach of Owsla code, since does were not supposed to be used as war material. And with the deaths of Boxwood and Haystack, and the location of their warren now compromised, things couldn't have turned out any worse. And then, there was that inexplicable mystery of the enemy knowing so much.

"How can Woundwort possibly know how to use a _man-made_ contraption? How did they even know where to find us? It doesn't make sense," Silver said, looking at a loss at this new development. Alan shook his head in exasperation, trying to reason things out, but coming up with no logical explanation. How could a single rabbit of this primitive world, lacking all technology and science, know about a long-forgotten atomic satellite and have the knowledge of getting it started? Perhaps Hemlock's descendants had managed to preserve some human knowledge from long ago and had developed a technologically advanced society of their own, which they kept secret?

"I don't know what's going on here chaps, but I do know this: those bandits were well informed and knew what they were looking for. The only reasonable explanation is that Vervain, his mind set on revenge, followed us while keeping well out of sight; it was probably Cowslip who told him about the satellite, who knew all about it from Robbins, since he helped him dig up the cores. After getting all the information he needed, Vervain must have returned to Efrafa and told his master about all this; Woundwort then sent his troops to salvage the cores and also sent Vervain and his squad here to recover the key…"

"It doesn't matter how it happened; it's done. What matters is if we don't do something, we've in deep trouble," Derek said, "Woundwort now has the key to that satellite; no doubt they have the cores and the main assembly as well. The only stepping stone left between him and using that device, is putting it together and activating it. It is only a matter of time."

"Then we have to strike back now," Everybody went silent as their Chief spoke, "Now the Efrafans know where we are; soon or later they are going to come back with all their forces and renew the attack full-force. So, that means we have no choice but to infiltrate Efrafa." They all looked at their Chief doubtfully.

"Easier said than done Hazel-rah," Bigwig put in, "By the sound of it, we'd be going up against some massive and fierce Owsla; Frith knows how many experienced warriors Woundwort has under his command or what kind of defence strategies they are trained in. We are hardly up to scratch to resist an invasion; if Woundwort had decided to send his whole army up here today instead of just a measly raiding squad, we'd be dead now."

"I think I have an idea," Derek said, raising his hand, "How about we rig that balloon we found in the fields and use it to fly to Efrafa? The HAB has an ample supply of propane and everything else we need to get it airborne again. We could fly past the troops that we'd otherwise have to fight, right into the heart of their warren, recover the key and any recruits we can liberate and then make our escape by air? Even those savage Efrafans can't stop us that way."

"Derek, you are a bloody genius, you know that?" Alan said, "That's a perfect plan. So, let's go salvage the balloon and see if we can repair it. If we are lucky, we can be in the air by this evening."

"I am afraid there is a minor flaw in your plan Professor," McEwen pointed out, "We still don't know where Efrafa is."

"No, but I have a good idea of where it might be," Alan replied calmly, remembering the photograph from Robbins' journal, "According to Vervain, the launch module of Project Black Inferno is in Efrafa; Robbins said that Red Hand had been secretly constructing it at their headquarters back in our own time, which means that Efrafa must be located at the sight of Red Hand's old hideout, outside Overton." He didn't hesitate to consult Drake's map of the future world; sure enough, he spotted a small oval-shaped island in the canyon, about four miles south of Watership Down, where the town of Overton had once been, marked _Efrafa Isle_, "This_ is_ the place all right."

"All right, then lets get moving. We have no time to lose," Bigwig said as he and several others followed Derek out of the Honeycomb to go retrieve the balloon components from Beacon Hill, while the does went to dig graves for Boxwood and Haystack, and the four Efrafans.

Meanwhile, Vervain had caught up with Woundwort and Robbins, who had been waiting by the ruins of Nuthanger Farm for news. "Sire, I got it! I've recovered the key!" the black rabbit squalled excitedly, showing his master the key that hung from its chain in his mouth. Woundwort smiled evilly as Robbins took the key from Vervain and examined it.

"This is it all right, General. Now, we have the lot!"

"Well done, Captain Vervain. But what about the rest of your squad?" Woundwort asked sharply, noticing the absence of Mallow, Avens, Marjoram and Moneywort. Vervain's lip twitched nervously; although all rabbits in Efrafa, save for Woundwort himself, were practically disposable, the officer who lost a rabbit on his watch, whether Owsla or slave, still had to answer for it. And Woundwort always saw incidents like this as a sign of weakness, which often warranted a demotion, maybe even punishment.

"We lost them to the enemy, sire; those outsiders caught us by surprise and greatly outnumbered us. However, we did succeed in killing two of them, as a warning." To his utmost relief, Woundwort chuckled in satisfaction, "Well, we shall see if they've got the message of how wrong it is to defy me. Once we are back in Efrafa, I will send my whole Owsla to finish them off as soon as we are ready to initiate our conquest. Robbins, do you have everything you need?"

"Indeed General. Now, that we have recovered the key, all I have to do is get the components assembled and then Project Black Inferno will be at our disposal."

"Splendid. Then, let us go. We have preparations to make, and a grand destiny to welcome. Soon, El-ahrairah's legacy will finally be finished for good, just like it was meant to long ago." The three associates set off to return to Efrafa. "And Captain Vervain," continued Woundwort, "In light of your success in obtaining the key, the loss of the Patrol under your command, shall go unpunished this time." Vervain sighed with relief.

**Author's note:** Another chapter is up! Originally, there was a deleted scene, where McEwen and his group were searching the HAB and found further evidence of Shertok's scheme. Coming up next, the perilous journey to Efrafa. Do enjoy and please review!


	23. Chapter 23 Flight in The Balloon

Reassembling the balloon was a straightforward task, but very time consuming. After folding up the nylon envelope in its basket and carrying the bundle back to the Down, Alan and McEwen had spread it out on the grass outside the Honeycomb, to examine it, inch by inch, for leaks, while Derek hurried back down to the HAB, returning shortly, laden with several unused propane cylinders and all the tools they needed.

Although the rabbits had volunteered to help, the men wouldn't let them handle the balloon, fearful that their sharp claws might damage the fragile, nylon envelope. They had been some great concern of the fabric being shredded and irreparable; to their good fortune however, it was perfectly intact, if not a bit dirty from muddy smudges, save for a few small leaks which were easily patched up with the balloon's servicing kit.

While Derek and McEwen reassembled the repaired balloon, Alan busied himself by taking inventory of the arsenal for their new mission. With Robbins' revolver stolen, it left them with only Drake's salvaged gun as their single firearm, which, although workable, was only half-full, with no reload magazines, and there was no way to produce more ammunition for it. That, the knives they had salvaged from the museum, as well as a few flares from the chopper's crash kit, made their weapons arsenal a pitiful one indeed, the odds seriously against them.

After dismantling and cleaning out several centuries' worth of dust from the mechanism, Alan loaded the seven precious rounds they had back into the revolver magazine. They couldn't spare any ammunition to test it and could only hope that it would still work. And was no doubt that the Efrafans, despite having no firearms of their own, greatly outnumbered them. With no heavy artillery to use against them, they would just have to do their best to avoid a direct confrontation if possible.

Finally, after several hours of hard work, the balloon was finished and ready to be refilled. With McEwen operating the burners, while the others held the mouth of the envelope agape, the red envelope slowly began to take shape as hot air pumped up inside it, causing it to start rising. By midday, all was ready; the balloon stood floating, two grapnel lines anchoring it firmly to pegs in the ground, ready for departure. Then came the question of who would be coming along on the mission.

According to the balloon's flight manual, they had enough fuel to transport approximately 1,500lbs worth of weight to Efrafa and back - the equivalent of 12 passengers, including the additional weight of their equipment, which consisted of their weapons, survival kit, some food and water and the first aid, as well as their reserve fuel. And there was also another important factor to consider… After a brief debate with Hazel and Bigwig, Alan addressed the group.

"As you are probably already aware, the balloon can't take all of us; and we must leave some margin, if we are going to bring back any possible recruits. Therefore, only ten of us will be going. Those that already have been spoken for include Bigwig, Holly, Silver and Bluebell, who are Owsla; in addition, Hazel is included as Chief, Fiver as the seer who can forewarn us of any trouble, Blackberry as problem solver, Derek as engineer, McEwen as pilot and navigator, and myself as mission expert. Hawkbit, Dandelion, Pipkin, Acorn and Strawberry, whose skills won't be needed, and the does will remain behind to keep an eye on the warren. Speedwell and Buckthorn, who are Owsla, will also remain and be in charge in our absence. Is this plan satisfactory?"

Most of the rabbits nodded in agreement, some relieved for not been chosen for a potential suicide mission. Hawkbit however, looked outraged at being left behind; despite having an irritable mouth, he had daring. "And why should _I_ stay behind? I am also capable of holding my own in a fight, you know!" he shouted. Seeing that things were starting to get out of hand again, and with no time to waste, Bigwig stepped in.

"Because it is a direct order, Hawkbit," he said sternly, "If you want a debate over the arrangements, it will have to wait after the mission is complete. Until such time, when someone gives you an order, you carry it out without question. Clear?" Hawkbit groaned and walked away sulking.

While Alan and McEwen loaded their equipment onboard, Derek went back down to the HAB, to look for anything else they could find some use for. He returned a few minutes later carrying a crate with several sealed canisters, each marked with an explosive hazard logo.

"Should the situation get out of hand, these should do the trick. So those Efrafans think they've outsmarted us? Well, let them think again when we blast those sons of bitches into cat food!" he said with an evil smile. Alan frowned.

"What is that?" he asked sharply, eyeing the canisters with suspicion. His friend was intelligent, but sometimes could resort to the most drastic of ideas. Derek smiled evilly.

"Nitroglycerine, Al. I found it in a locker while ravaging through the workshop, probably leftover from the HAB's construction. We can fasten these canisters on the sides of the basket and rig the balloon as a bomber. Those Efrafans are in for a big surprise…!"

"Oh no, hold on a moment there! You are _not_ bringing any pipe-bombs onboard!" McEwen said sharply, blocking Derek's way, "Nitroglycerine is dangerous stuff; it is unstable and can explode from the slightest disturbance. If we hit turbulence up there, we could all be vaporized. There are no bombs, no way!"

"Look Major, I do understand your concern but we need more than just one measly revolver which we don't even know will work! Those goons outnumber us at least ten to one and we have nothing to defend ourselves with; on the other hand, this nitro can wipe out all the 'bad eggs' right in their hidey-hole. This may be our only chance of eliminating this threat all together…" Before McEwen could argue about the stupidity of ignoring flight safety regulations, however, Alan stepped in.

"I agree with McEwen, Deke. Our mission is to stop Black Inferno and liberate as many recruits as we can, not a bombing raid! Among those miserable Efrafans are innocent slaves and prisoners waiting to be rescued. We won't be of any help to them if we're blown to hell before we even get there, much less if we blow them up along with the Efrafan Owsla! Why, if anything, it would lower us down to Woundwort's level…!" Finally, Derek agreed and packed the canisters back into their crate and took them away.

One by one, the Watership Owsla climbed in the basket, helped by Derek and McEwen. Holly and Bluebell said their good-buys to Clover and Violet respectively, before climbing in onboard with the rest of their companions. Alan was about to climb in himself, when he felt someone paw him on the knee. He turned and saw Pipkin staring at him with a sad expression. Realising what was troubling him, he knelt before the dwarf rabbit.

"There is no need to look so downcast Pipkin. I am not turning my back on you by asking you to stay here; I am just looking out for your safety. There is going to be a lot more danger out there than I anticipated. I don't want to risk seeing you get hurt after what happened today…"

"I know Alan, it's just…I feel much safer when I am with you," the dwarf rabbit stammered, looking horribly embarrassed by his own words, "You've already saved my life twice… I know you must think me weak and helpless… Can I come with you please?" Alan sighed in sympathy. Normally would have said no, but not willing to hurt his little friend's feelings now, he gave in.

"All right Pipkin, you can come with us. And don't think yourself weak; someday, you will probably display more courage than you could ever imagine. Remember that." Gently lifting up the dwarf rabbit by the waist, he placed him into the basket before climbing in himself. His other companions, who had overheard the conversation, didn't dare argue, staring at Alan with admiration.

McEwen unfastened the grapnel line and the balloon soared upwards. The rabbits all gasped in amazement, as the ground seemingly dropped away beneath them. They could see their companions on the ground, also staring up at them open-mouthed. Pipkin, who was being held up by Alan so he could see the view, was laughing excitedly, "Oh, this is absolutely wonderful. There is nothing in the world like flying!" he squalled in joy as they all stared at the stunning view below them.

Compared to the flight on the Cessna in the dark of night, now, in broad daylight, the bird's view of the future world was absolutely stunning. The landscape below them was like an endless wild garden, without the faintest trace of pollution, farming, architecture, or any other signs of human impact, as far as the eye could see. Nature had long since healed the environment, which now functioned entirely independently, supplying the world with its rich products, like the Garden of Eden.

_Life in this future is definitely worth living_, Alan thought as he stared at the stunning beauty beneath them. Just then, he heard a groan followed by a gagging noise; turning, he saw Silver curled up in a heap on the bottom of the basket, looking as if he was about to be sick, "Oh Frith, I am dying…"

"You're just fine old chap. It's just a touch of the most common problem people experience on their first flight: altitude sickness. In future, just ease off a point on the flayrah before flying," Alan chuckled at the oaf-sized buck, who continued to groan miserably; while he had insisted on a good meal before departure, now he was definitely regretting it with every passing minute. The others continued to stare in amazement at the ground, way below them now, "By Frith, this is wonderful!"

However, none of them were aware of a lurking danger; stowing away on the balloon were many passing birds, perched on the top of the envelope; although the balloon was designed to withstand external attack by ordinary birds, it wasn't able to withstand the birds of the _future_, with their unnaturally enlarged talons that gripped the nylon of the balloon, slowly starting to tear through it…

"We are lucky; the wind is on our side. All right, everyone keep a sharp lookout for a small, oval-shaped island," McEwen said as they passed the binoculars between them, scanning the canyon for any familiar landmarks. As Alan took his turn with the binoculars, he brought them down to Pipkin's eyes, so his young friend could have a look as well. He smiled as the dwarf rabbit gasped in wonder at the zoomed view of the horizon. Suddenly, as if on queue, Pipkin called out, "Over there!" I think I can see something."

Alan took the binoculars and carefully scanned in the direction indicated by Pipkin. Sure enough, about two miles to the south, where the outskirts of Overton had once been, he could make out the outline of a formally elegant-looking building, perched atop, what appeared to be, an isolated, plateau-shaped rock, no more than a mile in circumference, situated right in the centre of the canyon that grew wider as it stretched south towards the Atlantic coast. The balloon was drifting straight towards it.

This isolated strip of land was the ideal place for a dark a place as Efrafa; in direct contrast to the surrounding area, which was thick with rich vegetation, this little island was desolate and barren, save for a few patches of scattered trees, indicating traces of herbivore overpopulation, with a melancholy atmosphere about it, much like a prison colony. High cliffs surrounded the island from all sides, making it impossible for someone to venture on or off it. Alan shuddered at the thought of all those rabbits living crammed together underground with guards shadowing them night and day, surviving on the pitiful rations and limited exercise allowed to them by Woundwort's Owsla.

"Looks like Efrafa is a real hellhole," muttered Derek as they stared at the miserable-looking domain of General Woundwort in apprehension. Suddenly, Hazel called out, "There! I see the warren!"

Close to the northern end of the island was a curiously shaped crater, resembling an old quarry site; it was the Crixa, the warren's main assembly point. Standing on ledges atop a thick oak tree overlooking the crater, as well as around the perimeter, were many rabbits standing in carefully positioned locations, while others patrolled the outer boundaries. Bigwig frowned grimly at the sight.

"Those sentries aren't positioned to protect the warren from _attack_; they are there to prevent any attempts of escape! That place is a real slave squad, it is!" he growled furiously, "Just you wait, when I meet that bloke Woundwort, I'll give him a piece of my mind, that crack-brained slave driver!"

"You might just get your wish, if we succeed in liberating any recruits from right from under his ugly nose," said Alan, as they floated right over the warren, however attracting no attention as the balloon was completely silent, "Major, can you get this thing down?"

"We can't, there is nowhere to land!" replied McEwen as he stared at the thick treetops beneath them. Indeed, although the island was deprived of any edible vegetation, there were still many tall, semi-barren trees growing everywhere, their branches resembling pointed stakes, which would inevitably damage the balloon if they attempted to set it down; the only clearing seemed to be the Crixa itself, which was out of the question, if they were to avoid capture.

"Try bringing us lower and let's get a closer look," said Alan pointing at another clearing close to the warren, which resembled some sort of dig site. In the midst of all the broken soil, they could see a vertical, circular pit, which resembled a well of some description, with a projectile standing erect in its depths like a shell in a gun; they could see Project Black Inferno! It seemed Red Hand had indeed buried the satellite module here centuries earlier when they aborted, in an effort to cover their tracks, until General Woundwort had somehow got wind of it and come to retrieve it, undoubtedly with the intention of using it for similar dark ends.

Suddenly, Alan realised they were in trouble. Instead of floating at a level altitude, they seemed to be slowly sinking closer and closer to the barren treetops, their speed of descent rapidly increasing, yet nobody was operating the balloon valves. At this rate, they would soon be flying dangerously low and crash.

"Major, give us more lift!" McEwen, also realising they were going down, fired up the burner to top up the hot air in the envelope; the balloon levelled for an instant but then, to their utmost horror, resumed its descent! Alarmed, they all got to their feet. What was wrong? Staring up the mouth of the envelope, McEwen cursed as he spotted the problem.

"We've sprung a leak up there!" he yelled as they all stared up inside the envelope; sure enough, they could see a beam of sunlight shining through the top from a small tear in the dark nylon. The birds that had been perched on the envelope had finally managed to puncture it with their sharp talons, causing an irreparable puncture. Now, although the burner was continuing to pump hot air into the envelope, preventing the balloon from falling out of the sky instantly, it couldn't keep up with the loss of pressure. They were descending straight into the middle of the enemy warren!

"If we come down within the boundaries of the warren, we're done for! Can't you do something?" Bigwig shouted as they neared the exposed treetops, heading straight for the ground. McEwen turned the burners up to maximum power but it was still not enough; although it had slowed down their descent somewhat, their fuel couldn't possibly keep them aloft long enough for them to get clear of the warren, much less get off the island. Alan thought desperately; he didn't want to do this, but they had no choice.

"We've got to lighten. Everything overboard, hurry!" he bellowed, picking up a spare propane tank and tossing it over the side. Derek and McEwen followed suit and started dumping everything loose overboard. But it was no good, as the leak continued to vent, their fuel reserves draining fast. Just as Alan was about to brace himself for a crash landing, one that would most likely destroy the balloon and leave them stranded on enemy territory, he saw it: up ahead was a small clearing, deprived of trees or any other hazards. But there was no way they would remain airborne long enough to get there. At that moment, the flame of the burners started to dim and eventually went out, as the last of the propane was used up. In an instant, the balloon had resumed its fall in earnest. There was only one thing for it now.

"Everybody up onto the ring! We'll jettison the basket!" he shouted, grabbing hold of the rigging and climbing up. Sitting himself on the framework that supported the burners, he reached down and pulled Pipkin and Fiver up, sitting them on his lap. Derek and McEwen followed his example and helped the other rabbits up too, allowing them to cling onto them, as they didn't have hands to hold onto the rigging. Silver, being the heaviest, proved to be the most difficult.

"Come on fat boy, get up here! Hurry!" McEwen shouted, as he struggled to pull Silver up. The buck grunted as he struggled to pull his own immense weight up, "I…I can't do it!"

"Look, you great big dandy, you either climb up now or you go down with the basket!" Derek bellowed, "Now, move arse!" The thought of falling to his death seemed to give Silver new strength and he finally managed to get a grip on the ring with his forepaws, perching himself between Derek and McEwen.

"All right, start undoing the rigging!" Alan called and the three men started undoing the bolts that kept the basket cables attached to the netting. Suddenly, the last cable detached and the basket dropped away beneath them; it fell through the trees and they heard it hit the ground. They all hang on tightly as the balloon, now deprived of all unnecessary weight, rose momentarily, drifting over the trees towards the clearing. Although they were still dropping, they had managed to put a safe distance between themselves and the warren. It was now or never.

"Everybody jump! Now!" On Alan's command, they all let go of the ring and jumped, landing in the rough undergrowth of the island. The horribly deflated balloon, now reduced to a bare envelope wrapped in loose netting, soared upwards for the final time, over the treetops and out of sight.

Meanwhile, a bruised and exhausted rabbit was slowly making his way towards the cliffs of the canyon that separated Efrafa from the outside world. Against all expectations, Silverweed had finally picked up the outsiders' trail.

After he had set off from Cowslip's warren on his mission of redemption, it hadn't taken him long to realise the difficulty of his decision; being a weakling in size, not to mention completely inexperienced, and with nothing but the memories of what he had seen in Alan's mind to guide him, he had ended up walking around in circles for hours and hours, dodging elil at every turn, as he searched for this 'lonely beech tree set on a high lonely hill'.

On the first night out, he had found shelter in an abandoned scrape under a tree, which had kept him reasonably safe from the swarming elil. By the following day, he had started questioning the wisdom of leaving; perhaps he should turn back now that he still could? But the thought of what Robbins and Woundwort intended to do, combined with his own guilt for everything he had done, won out, and he had pressed on.

Finally, after many hours of endless searching, he had finally picked up the hlessil' trail again, leading him all the way to Watership Down. Unfortunately, in his haste, he had forgotten to take into consideration the fact that the outsiders still saw him as an enemy; sure enough, the instant he had set foot in the warren, he had found himself pinned down by several angry rabbits, demanding to know who he was. No sooner had Strawberry recognised him, than the furious rabbits had started beating him up. In spite of the pain and humiliation, with his far sight reading the minds of his attackers, Silverweed realised he had arrived too late.

After the Watershipers had had their fun and let him go with a warning to stay away or he'd be killed, a bruised and depressed Silverweed had set off to find Efrafa, where Alan and his friends were headed. Despite the beating, deep down Silverweed felt that he deserved it and shuddered to think of what could happen if Alan and the Watership Owsla reacted the same way when they saw him…that is, _if_ he ever found them in time.

Now he stood on the edge of the cliffs that separated Efrafa from the outside world, preventing all prisoners from escaping as well as any infiltrators from trespassing. In the depths of the canyon, he could see the furious river, looking ready to swallow up anything that tried to cross. He paused for a moment, trying to pick up any familiar scent; he was certain he was on the right trail, but how did the Efrafans get across when they went out on Wide Patrols?

Suddenly, he heard a growl behind him; turning, he saw, with a twinge of fear, a weasel spring at him from the bushes. With a scream of terror, Silverweed bolted for his life with the hungry weasel in hot pursuit. As he run helplessly along the edge of the cliffs, he saw two Efrafans up ahead, standing guard at a collapsed tree that formed the only way across. As he run past them, the weasel, which seemed to have decided on some better prey rather than a skinny runt, proceeded to attack the two surprised guards instead. It fell upon the first one, who began screaming in agony as the eli ripped him apart; the second fled across the bridge and headed through the semi-barren trees towards the warren, calling for backup. Seeing his chance, Silverweed run past the distracted weasel, who was now having its fill of its victim, over the bridge, and into Efrafan territory.

After finding a ditch where he could hide and rest, Silverweed curled up inside, still trembling from shock. In spite of his troubles, he had made it, and had even successfully infiltrated enemy territory undetected. Now, if he could only locate the outsiders' infiltration party, to warn them of the danger they were in, he would have done his part in redeeming himself…

He didn't know how long he lay there, before the sunlight was suddenly blacked out by a bright red thing that came down on top of him, trapping him. He struggled to free himself, causing his paws and neck to became further entangled in the netting of the balloon, which had come to rest right over the ditch he had been hiding in. In an instant, he was completely immobilised, like an insect caught in a spider's web – or rather like a rabbit in a snare -, the envelope nylon muffling his cries for help. He shuddered, remembering all the rabbits he had led to their deaths back at his master's warren, afraid of falling out of Cowslip's good graces; in his fear, he could almost hear the voices of the dead tormenting him for his comeuppance, with the Black Rabbit of Inle also lurking nearby, waiting to take him…

Giving himself up for lost, Silverweed collapsed in exhaustion, sobbing, unaware that the little oxygen in the bundle of nylon and cord he was trapped in, was quickly running out, the airtight fabric of the balloon suffocating the life out of him...

Alan dragged himself to his feet, nursing his bruised elbows and knees; luckily, he had landed into a bed of heather, cushioning his otherwise dangerous fall. Pipkin lay beside him, also unharmed. Sitting up, he saw his companions lying in the grass all around, looking bruised and battered, but luckily not badly hurt. The balloon was nowhere to be seen. "Everybody all right?"

"Nothing broken," Hazel muttered as he nursed a nasty scratch right above his left ear, while Bigwig tugged at a stem of poison ivy that was caught on his forepaw. Bluebell and Silver emerged from some nearby bramble bushes, the fur covered in thorns but otherwise unharmed. Then suddenly they realised that Fiver and Blackberry were missing. Hazel instantly went tharn, "Where is Fiver? Find him!"

It didn't take them long to find the runt rabbit nearby with Derek and McEwen, standing over Blackberry's unmoving form. It seemed the black-ear-tipped buck had hit his head against a protruding stone on impact. They carefully turned Blackberry over and felt his pulse; to their utmost relief, the buck was still alive, just unconscious. While Alan held Blackberry's head still, McEwen felt the skull and spine for any possible fractures but found nothing of concern, other from some light bleeding beneath his left ear, where he had hit the stone, "His pupil dilation looks fine; most likely, it's just a concussion. He should come round soon."

"Good enough, but we can't wait here until he does," Bigwig said, "With all this commotion, we've probably alerted the Efrafans of our arrival; a patrol could be underway right now. We have to get out of here right away!"

"Wait, we can't leave our equipment behind! Our gun…" Derek said urgently, staring at all their scattered supplies lying scattered all over the place, "Damn, we'll never find anything now…"

"And most importantly, where is the balloon?" said McEwen, looking up at the treetops where the envelope had floated away after they had jumped. Although the burners had gone out, making it unlikely for the balloon to have made it very far, the radius of the island was quite small, making it very possible that it had gone down in the canyon and lost. If that was the case, then they were stranded on hostile territory, with no means of escape. But for now, they had to move or they'd end up being captured by the enemy.

"We will come back after dark and salvage what we can. Let's go." They set off through the woods, away from the warren, heading towards the south end of the island, looking for a safe place of refuge. As they walked along, the Owsla rabbits kept a sharp lookout for any signs of Efrafan patrols, while Alan and Derek carried the unconscious Blackberry between them. McEwen brought up the rear, all the while glancing over his head in case they were being followed.

"If we can't find the balloon and fix it, we will stranded here forever," Derek kept muttering as they walked along, "And it doesn't really matter anyway, because unless we can find more propane somewhere, there won't be any flying out of here at all. We've as good as done for…"

"Maybe, but we far from _finished_ yet, so shut up and keep moving," said Alan sharply, before the others could despair, "There has to be some other way off this island. Efrafan patrols frequently go out on raids and they sure as helldon't use a balloon…" But, then again, that place was probably under heavy guard to prevent escapes and adding to the fact that Woundwort was probably expecting them, it would be quite a challenge to fight their way through, especially without weapons. Still, they had no choice but to hope for the best.

As they walked, the group took in the dismal surroundings of Woundwort's territory. While from the balloon, the island had looked merely barren and gloomy, from the ground it was nothing less than hell on earth; with the exception of a few trees, only rough and inedible vegetation, including nettles, poison ivy and brambles could be seen, with almost no traces of any tender vegetation needed to supply a healthy rabbit's diet, indicating the island was under intense strain as a result of herbivore overpopulation. There was no sign of any other animals anywhere and the skeletal remains of rabbits and elil alike, testified to the inhospitableness of the place.

Soon, they came to the ruins of the structure they had seen from the balloon; it was Buxton Hall, Red Hand's old safe house, as seen in the photograph from Robbins's journal. However, in contrast to the photograph, the place now looked ancient and falling into ruin. The Victorian-era style walls were crumbling from age, with large amounts of moss and ivy growing from cracks in the mortar; the barred windows on the ground floor were reduced to empty holes, the wooden frameworks long gone. The rooftop had long since collapsed onto its framework, excluding the copper dome in the centre, which had long since lost it's paint and turned a shade of green, in addition to all the gaping holes that penetrated its corroded shell. An aerie darkness filled the ruined house.

Passing through a pair of crumbling pillars, which once been the elegant entrance to the property, the crossed through the overgrown garden with had become a jungle after all these centuries of abandonment; thick, fir-like trees and rough undergrowth covered every inch of what had once been the lawn, complete with a foul-smelling swamp, infested with mosquitoes and toads, which had once been the swimming pool. Alan led the way up the crumbling steps of the moss-coated porch to the weather-beaten front door, which stood ajar.

Entering, they found themselves in an arched hallway, leading to a larger domed hallway beyond. In direct contrast to the HAB, which had been preserved intact, Buxton Hall hadn't taken the passage of time very well at all; the interior was all dusty and mouldy, completely ruinous. All traces of paint, plaster and panelling had rotted away long ago, leaving the highly corroded framework, brickwork, plumbing and wiring visible on the crumbling walls. Puddles from rainwater that had leaked through the many holes in the collapsed roof could be seen everywhere.

Through the light that penetrated the broken windows, Alan saw the remains of a broad staircase at the end of the hallway, which led upstairs, beneath the ruined dome that stood perched atop the roof of the house. The upper floors had long since deteriorated and collapsed, rendering most of the upper storeys inaccessible. Chunks of rubble and debris lay everywhere, giving the place a terrible run-down appearance. Any furniture, carpeting or accessories had long since eroded into scraps of junk that littered the floor.

Certain components made of non-degradable materials were still recognisable, including some brass and crystal light fixtures, which still hung uselessly from the decaying ceiling, their light bulbs dark and dead. Weeds and ivy projected through holes in the ceiling and walls, wherever sunlight shone. The only thing that seemed completely untouched was the mosaic tiling of the floor and the marble steps of the staircase. Although a dump, to say the least, this place would still serve a useful purpose.

"Well, I believe we found our dwelling; this place should make a fine hideout until we can figure out how to infiltrate Efrafa and then make an escape," Alan said, staring around the old manor. Pigsty or not, this place, built to be a safe house, with its solid walls and barred windows, was completely impenetrable to the Efrafan Owsla.

"Yeah, a swell dwelling indeed," Derek said, rolling his eyes, "All damp, smelly, and ruinous. Regular five-star hotel. All we lack is room service… and the bare necessities of making this place suitable for human habitation!" he said sarcastically, staring around the decaying structure, which looked far from hospitable, if not dangerous from the effects of decay. McEwen chuckled a bit at Derek's modesty as he said, "If we built a fire to vent out the dampness and clear away some of this mess, this place will soon be more cosy than Buckingham Palace."

"Sounds good to me, Major," said Alan, "But we should inspect the whole place carefully, to ensure it's safe from intruders. We have to make sure there is no other way in, to keep the Efrafans from catching us unaware in the middle of the night. First, let's find a good spot to set up camp and tend to Blackberry."

Walking through a doorway into a semi-dark room just off the hallway, they found themselves, in what had probably once been, the manor's drawing room. The floor was covered in debris and the corroded remains of furniture and other accessories; the only things still recognisable were the Dutch fireplace and the safe, still fixed inside the crumbling wall in a corner. Three arched windows with rusted steel bars looked out into the overgrown garden. In spite of its shortcomings however, it would still offer them shelter and safety for the night.

After clearing away some debris in front of the fireplace and building a fire, they carefully laid Blackberry down; even now, they could see some swelling building just under his left ear, where he had been hit, but otherwise, his injury seemed marginal, with no signs of serious after-effects.

"Think he'll be all right?" Hazel asked, looking concerned and rightfully so, for if Blackberry had suffered some incapacitating injury, would only add to their problems. But that was not to be the case, as, not a moment too soon, a faint moan was heard; Blackberry had regained consciousness and was staring around, looking lost and confused, "What…what happened? Were are we?" The others looked at him in relief, satisfied that he hadn't suffered any lasting damage.

Alan and McEwen gently helped him up, "Are you in pain?"

"My head feels like I've been on the receiving end of one of Bigwig's beatings, but otherwise I think I am all right. Where are we…?" he asked, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings. Seeing that Blackberry was okay, Alan turned to the others, "Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig, Silver, come with me; we have to make sure this place is safe. The rest of you stay here and make sure Blackberry is comfortable."

Picking up a copper pipe and stuffing it with some weeds and twigs, improvising a makeshift torch, Alan and his companions set off to explore the rest of the ruined building they would be calling home for a while. Remembering that this place had once been the headquarters of a terrorist faction, his mind was pondering on the possibility of finding something useful, perhaps some weapons the terrorists might have left behind, which they could use to infiltrate Efrafa.

They left the drawing room and set off down a lengthy corridor just off the hallway, leading to many different rooms, all having undergone a significant transformation over time. They found a study, its library having long since reduced to tatters, some mass bedrooms where Red Hand's lower faction members once slept, but no place likely to find anything useful. Then they came to another room in the basement, which turned out to be the manor's kitchens.

The room, like all the others they had seen so far, was a mess and falling into ruin. A variety of old kitchen accessories, including rusted cookware and cutlery, broken dishes and glasses, among other odds and ends that lay scattered all over the floor. The only thing virtually intact was the massive, old-fashioned gas oven standing against the wall, having turned a dark shade of brown from several layers of rust. A sealed door, leading to the old freezer room, stood at the far end.

Staring around the kitchen, Alan suddenly saw something of great value to them: in one corner of the room was a locker, where spare propane tanks for the oven were stored; they had found a possible refuelling source for the balloon! Sure enough, Alan peered inside, finding several cylinders lying flat on steel racks, looking shabby and coated in cobwebs, but otherwise intact, having been made from long-lasting stainless steel.

"Eureka! Looks like we may have a chance of escape after all…"

Suddenly, they were all caught off-guard by a faint whimper coming from the direction of the closed door that led to the freezer room. "Everybody quiet down! I think we may not be alone here after all," Bigwig hissed, gesturing in the direction of the closed freezer door.

Noiselessly, they approached the door, Alan brandishing an old frying pan to use as a weapon. If it was an Efrafan spy eavesdropping behind that door, then they couldn't let him escape, or they'd have the entire Efrafan army swarming the place. Carefully positioning himself beside the door, he grabbed hold of the rusty handle with one hand, while Bigwig, Silver and Hazel positioned themselves to pounce, Fiver covering their backs.

"Now, when I open this door, we all charge at him together and pin him down; there is no other way out of that freezer, so he is not going anywhere." Taking a deep breath, Alan suddenly swung the door open.

"Caught you, you back-scratching little…!" Bigwig roared as they all stormed into the freezer room, expecting to come face-to-face with the unsuspecting intruder; only, to their utmost bewilderment, there was nobody there! Only the shrivelled, skeletal remains of meat products still hung on rusted hooks from the ceiling, amidst piles of rubbish, including bottles, rusted cans and the remains of old food packaging, lying scattered around.

"I am sure I heard someone," Alan muttered in confusion as they looked around the seemingly deserted room, "How did he get past us…?" But the rabbits, also having heard the sound, were sniffing the floor for traces of scent, putting their faith in their most trusty receptor Frith had blessed them with: their sense of smell. Sure enough, Bigwig frowned as he picked up something.

"Yes, someone _was_ here recently - Efrafan, I might add. I can recognise that foul scent anywhere," he growled as he sniffed the floor, "Only, where is he…?"

"I say, look over there!" Hazel said suddenly, noticing something on the dirty floor, something other than scent. It was _blood_…fresh blood droplets, staining the floor, alongside several pairs of rabbit pawprints visible in the dirt. Examining more carefully, they saw the trail that went out backwards through the door, leading to wherever the unknown visitor had come from; strangely enough, there seemed to be no tracks leading _out_, indicating that the intruder had never left this room. Then, suddenly, they heard it again; a fearful whimper, coming from behind a pile of old wooden crates, stacked in a dark corner.

While Alan, with Hazel's help, pushed the rubbish aside to get a better look, the rabbits stood guard at the door in case the intruder, whoever it was, tried to make a run for it. Pushing the last crate out of the way, a horrible sight met their eyes: lying on the floor before them was an unconscious rabbit with horribly mutilated ears among other ghastly injuries all over his body, indicating the aftermath of some savage torture. As Alan bent down to try and help him, the whimper was heard again, but it was _not_ from the injured rabbit as he had figured; instead, it was coming from deep within the shadows at the far end of the room.

Leaving the others to tend to the injured rabbit, Alan cautiously moved deeper into the shadows to investigate. As he felt blindly in front of him with his hand, he touched something furry in the dark; that thing, whatever it was, which seemed to be using the darkness for cover, clawed viciously at his hand like a cat, emitting a soft scream of fear as it did. Quickly striking a match, he saw four does shrunk up against the wall, looking utterly terrified at the sight of him.

The first one, which was the largest, was around Hazel's age with an intelligent-looking face and deep, hazel eyes; the second one was a runt like Fiver, the smallest in the group, with a tan fur and wide yellow eyes; the third, which seemed to be the youngest, had chestnut brown fur and blue eyes. Judging by her violent shuddering, she had been the one who had emitted the whimpers that had given them away. Finally, the forth had a similar built to the first, only with lighter-coloured fur. All four of them stood petrified with fear at the sight of Alan and his companions; apparently, they had been hiding from someone…or something.

"It's all right. We mean you no harm. Come on out," the man spoke kindly, crouching, so he was level with the four frightened does. However, his ability to speak only seemed to frighten them even more as they drew back, trembling and whimpering, "Frith-rah, val mon ol um ithe!" The largest of the does, which seemed to be leader of the group, fearlessly stood in a protective stance in front of her friends, snarling at the man, "Um marlil olma. A lay marli. Dayn hli as a layth zyhl es!"

"Easy now, we are here to help you. Do any of you speak English?" Alan asked gently, keeping his distance, weary of scaring the four terrified creatures before him even more. He was glad as Hazel, Bigwig and Fiver came up beside him, stopping dead in their tracks in surprise as they saw the does.

Instead of finding some Efrafan spy that had been following them, they had stumbled across four does that had apparently been trying to escape from Efrafa; it seemed that they would no longer have to worry about how to get recruits out of that place. Bigwig, however, was rather suspicious, as he asked in his native tongue, _"Who are you? Are you from Efrafa? Are you spies for Woundwort?"_ This last remark, combined with Bigwig's massive threatening frame only brought the does on edge with renewed fear.

"_No, you can't take us back to Efrafa. Stop tormenting us and just kill us right here!"_ the smallest doe cried, bracing herself, as if expecting the newcomers to suddenly spring at them for the kill.

"_You don't understand; we aren't from Efrafa. We have come to help you escape,"_ Hazel explained, also in Lapine, hoping his friendlier tone of voice would persuade the does that they meant no harm. The leader doe, finally realising that the strangers weren't hostile, answered cautiously, in good English, with a strong Lapine accent.

"Who are you? And where did this _talking ithe_ come from?"

Despite her uncertainty, her voice was kind and loving, like that of a devoted mother. She seemed to be eyeing Hazel with interest and Alan couldn't help but notice that, he too, seemed rather enchanted by her good looks. Meanwhile, her companions were staring in amazement at Alan, struggling to grasp the fact that a _talking_ human - one that _wasn't_ elil nonetheless -, was standing before them, accompanied by a group of outsiders that had apparently infiltrated General Woundwort's supposedly impenetrable domain, to _save_ _them_. Hazel took charge as he addressed the four does.

"My name is Hazel-rah. These are my friends, Bigwig, Holly, Silver, Fiver and Alan." he replied, introducing each of his companions in turn.

"'_Friend_'?" shrieked the youngest doe indignantly, realising that these strangers actually regarded this strange talking human as one of them, "You call this ithe your _friend_? Humans are savage brutes!"

"Maybe they are now, but long ago humans were just like you," said Alan calmly, ignoring the insult. Although Bigwig and some of the others had frowned at the doe's rudeness, the man thought the doe extremely likeable, much like a rebellious teenager, her gutsy attitude very familiar to him…

"Let me guess, you're Nelthilta aren't you?" he asked the doe, who gasped in surprise. Her companions also gasped in amazement at Alan's accurate guess.

"How…how do you know my name?" she asked the man with greater interest than before, yet with obvious scorn, "So you _are_ a spy, sent by the Council to arrest us…!" Before Alan could explain however, Fiver spoke up.

"Alan comes from another time, from the past, before the time of Frith's Blessing. After he and his two companions joined us, they have proven themselves to be loyal friends and allies." Alan felt his face slightly heat up in embarrassment at Fiver's words. Although the does looked more or less reassured, Nelthilta still looked extremely doubtful. Alan needn't ask why; in Efrafa, humans were regarded as the most brutish scum that walked the earth, even more that what they were back at Sandleford. Sure enough, the doe snorted in resentment.

"Not even those dumb Owsla officers would come up with such a pathetic bluff. Whoever you are, we don't need your help or the help of your talking ithe sidekick…" But the leader doe nudged her non-too gently in the side to quieten her down, "Nelthilta please! You know very well that we've barely made it this far with our lives. We need their help, especially poor Blackavar," she said, staring in the direction of the injured buck, which was being tended to by Silver. Finally regaining their confidence, the does approached their rescuers.

"My name is Hyzenthley," said the leader doe, introducing herself, "This is my sister Thethuthinnang and our friends Vilthuril, Nelthilta and Blackavar," she said, introducing each of her companions in turn, "As you've already guessed, we are escapees from Efrafa. Our lives there were nothing but misery; we couldn't even call them our own, being mere slaves to the Owsla and Owslafa. Blackavar and I planned this escape in hopes of starting a better life far away but only made it this far. If we are caught, Efrafan law says we will probably be facing death for desertion…"

"Don't worry, you're safe now," said Hazel reassuringly, "We'll take good care of you. We promise." The does looked delighted, even Nelthilta, although she still felt suspicious about Alan's trustworthiness, "You still haven't answered my question; where exactly is your human friend getting all this information from? Not to mention he can _talk_. How is that done?" Feeling that the does deserved to know the truth, Alan explained.

"Long ago, humans dominated the world like you do, but without any natural enemies. They had developed inventions and knowledge beyond imagination, with no creature capable of competing. Your kind was much different back in my time compared to now; back then, you didn't possess human intelligence like now… Anyway, to cut a long story short, some mysterious force accidentally threw my companions and me into your world, whose origins we've been trying to discover ever since. From what we've been able to determine, the last few remaining survivors of our kind passed on their abilities of speech and intelligence to your ancestors, hoping to make you part of a new world we were meant to share together. I presume you know the tale of the Four Brothers?" The does nodded.

"Yes, they are part of our beginnings; although General Woundwort, our Chief Rabbit, who is a direct ancestor of Lord Hemlock, the founder of Efrafa, claims that only _his_ family are worth remembering," explained Hyzenthlay, "According to Woundwort, Hemlock alone was blessed by Frith to lead us into becoming dominant creatures of the world. El-ahrairah and Rubscuttle have been branded as traitors to our heritage and any allegiance to their legacy is strictly forbidden. Man is known as the Lord of The Thousand, but his former dominance or intelligence is never heard of, let alone his role in our creation, as you describe it."

"That doesn't surprise me in the least; if the truth was revealed, Woundwort would lose all support among his kind, if not cost him his life as a traitor to rabbithood," Alan replied grimly, remembering everything they had seen in Drake's log, with Hemlock's extermination of humans and the murder of El-ahrairah.

"Excuse me?" Silver said, interrupting the conversation, "As much as I hate to break up this pleasant storytelling, if we don't hurry, this poor fellow will soon be dead!" In the confusion, they had almost forgotten about Blackavar, who still lay unconscious on the floor, slowly succumbing to his injuries. Although Silver had cleaned his wounds, he still needed much more extended treatment to stand any chance of recovery. Realising the urgency of the situation, Alan turned to his companions, "Let's get him back to the others and see what we can do for him. Silver, can you carry him?"

Hoisting Blackavar onto Silver's broad shoulders, the group, accompanied by the does, left the kitchens, up a narrow spiral staircase and back through the hallway towards the drawing room where the rest of their companions were expecting them.

**Author's note:** Another great chapter is up! At first I was going to have Blackberry die in the balloon crash, but I changed my mind at the last minute. As for Blackavar and the does, they escaped Efrafa sometime before Vervain and his buddies were sent to scout the area for them and encountered Alan instead... Enjoy and please review! Thank you!


	24. Chapter 24 Stranded in Enemy Territory

They returned to the drawing room, to find a roaring fire in the grate, which McEwen had built using bits of all the mouldy junk scattered around the room, while Derek was preoccupied with trying to force the old safe open. The bucks were utterly surprised as they saw the does but gasped as they took in their ghastly appearances; terribly thin, malnourished, and horribly dehydrated. And that didn't come close to the sight of Blackavar. Gently, they laid the injured buck down onto McEwen's jacket, which the pilot had laid out on the floor to use as a mattress, all of them cringing at the sight of the horrible mauling. But there was little they could do for him without medical aid.

"Can't you do something for him?" begged Hyzenthlay, looking on the verge of tears. Derek turned to McEwen, who shook his head grimly, "Without the first aid kit, I can't see how…" But Alan, who had past experience in improvising without the luxury of a medical kit, had an idea.

"Derek, look through my vest pockets and get my hip flask; we can use the alcohol as a disinfectant. Major, I am going to need yours and Derek's handkerchiefs and anything else you can spare to use as bandages. Hurry, before his fever gets any higher!" Taking out his own handkerchief, he turned to the injured rabbit.

Moving Blackavar in front of the fire, to make him as comfortable as possible, they got to work. By the firelight, Alan and McEwen carefully cleaned the septic wounds using the alcohol and their handkerchiefs. Unfortunately, some of the deeper ones required stitches to heal properly, but it was a start.

"You said the Efrafan Owsla did this to him?" Hazel asked Hyzenthley, staring at the ghastly gashes in disbelief, "These wounds look extremely vicious for a rabbit's work. They look more like the work of elil…"

"All members of the Efrafan Owsla are amazingly strong and fierce, with no qualms for bloodshed," she explained, "And that doesn't come close to General Woundwort; his size and strength easily outmatches everyone's, even your big friend Thlayli's. None of you would stand a chance against him in a fight; he'd rip you to bits before you knew it. He does that all the time with elil that trespass across the warren. When he sends raiding squads to steal flayrah from human villages, they always take it by _force_, never by cunning." Alan rolled his eyes.

"That's just wonderful." He turned to McEwen, who was tending to Blackavar, "How is he?"

"He seems to have lost quite a lot of blood and most of the wounds have turned septic," said McEwen grimly, "Unless he is given some proper medical attention soon, we might as well start digging his grave…" Alan narrowed his eyes at the pilot to shut him up, as not to upset the does.

After they had finished cleaning up the last wound, Alan turned to the others, "Well, we've stopped the bleeding and patched him up best we can; he won't be a pretty sight, but he should survive. For now, we should just let him rest." After making sure the buck was comfortable and resting, Alan turned to Hazel.

"We must return to the crash site and retrieve our equipment. If the Efrafans find the balloon first, they will destroy everything, leaving us with nothing. I am going back to salvage what I can…" He got up and headed for the door.

"Wait, I am coming with you; you are not going anywhere out there alone!" Bigwig said firmly, as he, along with Silver, Holly and Hazel, followed Alan out the door, McEwen picking up the rear. Alan wanted to object, but knowing his friends, he was certain they would bluntly refuse to let him go alone. They left Buxton Hall and made their way back to the crash site.

Meanwhile, Robbins, accompanied by Woundwort, Vervain, Campion and a Wide Patrol, had reached the area where the balloon had gone down. The commotion had alerted the sentries, which had immediately sounded the alarm, of a 'flying hrududu' invading their territory. By the time Woundwort and Robbins had come up from below ground, the balloon had vanished. Just as Woundwort was about to reprimand the guard for raising a false alarm, Vervain had shown up, sporting a bump on the head, from where a piece of the balloon's falling baggage had hit him. Quickly assembling a Patrol, they had gone to investigate.

The wrecked craft, along with all its cargo, lay scattered in pieces all over the place; rope, cords, the scattered contents of the medical kit, among other odds and ends lay scattered everywhere, turning Woundwort's territory into a dumpsite. While the patrol searched for any sign of the intruders, Robbins set his own plans in motion. Doing some quick thinking, he picked up a box of Valium from the scattered contents of the medical kit and proceeded to dope the water in the group's flasks, similar to what Alan had done back at Sandleford.

"We're too late," Campion said, "There is fresh scent everywhere but no sign of the outsiders themselves; they must have realised we were coming for them and run. They seemed to be headed in the direction of the Forbidden Man Burrow at the far side of the island. Should I send the patrol ahead to confirm?"

"No Captain Campion, there is no need. My domain was specifically built to prevent any escapees from ever making a getaway even if they could evade the Owsla; the only way out is over the log bridge. I want a Patrol standing guard there until further notice. If the outsiders show up, apprehend them but don't kill them yet; I want them to witness my glorious triumph before they die. In the meantime, let's check on how the digging is going. Come along Robbins!" The evil man, having finished setting the trap, quickly cleared up all traces of his work, leaving everything just as he had found them, before followed his master back to the warren.

They made for the dig site close to the Crixa; a large squad of slaves were digging up the missile silo housing a shabby but fully intact Project Black Inferno. The missile had survived corrosion from being buried in dry, rocky earth by its former owners, keeping it out of reach from the elements, which would have otherwise caused it to rust away long ago. A rusted gangplank run across the shaft, forming the only way across to the satellite's control panel, encased in the head of the ascend stage.

"There it is; almost as if waiting all this time for the right moment," Robbins muttered with a sense of pride as he stared at his former boss's long-lost life's work finally emerge into the sunlight. And it was all his, and his alone. Although Woundwort too was well aware of the destructive power of the satellite, his ego prevented him from realising that such a weapon could easily be turned against him at any time; and that was exactly what Robbins had in mind as part of his scheme to destroy Alan and his friends…and Woundwort too.

"I have ordered the slaves on double duty," said the dictator, "They should be finished by sunset, if they want to eat. Then, my long-awaited conquest can finally commence!" Both associates smirked evilly, along with Vervain and several other officers; only Captain Campion frowned in disapproval, yet remained obediently silent, silently praying to Frith that his master wasn't making a mistake by trusting this human; from the moment he had laid eyes on Robbins, he knew that this stranger, who had impressed his Chief so much, was up to something, and hoped Woundwort would realise it before it was too late…

Meanwhile, Alan's party had returned to the crash site to recover their scattered supplies. "Let's start looking; but everybody keep a sharp lookout for any unwelcome company." They split up and searched the surrounding woodland, from the undergrowth to the treetops, picking up everything they could salvage. Alan succeeded in recovering their sleeping bags and the survival kit containing their tools, water and food; returning to the basket, he saw McEwen had returned, carrying his hastily repacked first aid kit. Although both cases had split open on impact, most of their contents had been recovered intact. Hazel and Holly had also returned with some lengths of rope and little else they could find.

"It looks like we have found just about everything, except for the balloon envelope. Have the others returned yet?" The Chief Rabbit shook his head.

"No, but they should be back soon. Bigwig warned them not to wonder off too far…" At that second, Silver reappeared, looking alarmed. Alan gently grabbed hold of him by the shoulders to calm him down, "Take it easy chap! What's all the excitement about? Is it a Patrol…?"

"We found the balloon nearby; but when tried to retrieve it, we heard a voice in the wind, calling our names. I think it may be the Black Rabbit of Inle lurking around for a victim…!"

"Oh, do stop talking such nonsense lad!" snapped McEwen, "Now, did you say you found the balloon…?" But Alan, seeing Silver's troubled expression and suspicious at the mention of a strange voice calling their names, motioned to McEwen to quiet down, and turned to the terrified rabbit, "All right, take it easy. Let's go see what the problem is. Lead the way."

They followed Silver to a small plain, a few hundred yards away from the crash site, where they saw the envelope lying deflated on the ground close to the edge of the cliff, its trailing rigging caught in a nearby tree. Alan sighed with relief, realising that if that tree hadn't been there to snag the rigging, the balloon would have been lost in the canyon below. But their attention was instantly shifted to Bigwig, who was standing beside it, frozen stiff with fear. Sure enough, as they got closer, they noticed something moving beneath the fabric, a faraway, mystic voice weakly calling their names over and over.

"_Hazel… Bigwig… Where are you…?"_

"When he calls my name, I'll go and the rest of you run for it!" whispered Bigwig in an urgent tone, standing in a protective stance in front of his friends, determined to sacrifice himself to the lurking grim ripper, "And don't look back; remember, if you stare into the face of the Black Rabbit, He'll take you too!" McEwen however, didn't look concerned in the least.

"Look chaps, I don't know about any of this superstitious nonsense you spout at every turn! That's the voice of a living creature with flesh and blood. If I didn't know better, I'd say some Efrafan tried to beat us to the punch and got himself caught in the cookie jar… But, whoever it is, we'll soon find out!" He drew Drake's revolver and took aim, preparing to fire.

"Hold it, Major, you trigger-happy fool!" hissed Alan sharply, grabbing the RAF squadron leader's arm, "It doesn't necessarily have to be an enemy under there; it could be another escapee, perhaps another of Hyzenthlay's friends. You cover my back while I untangle the canvas…" McEwen kept the revolver firmly fixed in the direction of the figure, as Alan untangled him from the canvas, careful not to tare it any more than it already was. As the envelope fell away, they all gasped in surprise, as Cowslip's mystic emerged from beneath it, semiconscious, having nearly suffocated in the embrace of the airtight fabric. They were all stunned at the newcomer.

"By Frith, its that weirdo rabbit, Silverweed!" gasped Holly, "What is _he_ doing here?" Bigwig, who was beginning to feel rather stupid for thinking he had been hearing the Black Rabbit calling him to his death, narrowed his eyes.

"Isn't it obvious?" he growled coldly, "Cowslip decided to sent his lackey to spy on us. Only it looks like this weakling's luck didn't hold out, did it?" he sneered pitilessly, raising a massive paw to put Silverweed out of his misery, but Hazel stopped him.

"Bigwig, no! You can't just kill a defenceless rabbit like that! What if he _isn't_ here to spy at all? Perhaps he too has had enough of Cowslip and wishes to join us? After all, Strawberry and Nildrohein had a change of heart…"

"And what do you propose we do?" snapped the veteran indignantly, "Take him back to our hideout, feed him, nurse him back to health? That's a serious breach of security, especially if he decides to double-cross us! Strawberry and Nildrohein had wanted to escape Cowslip even before we came;_ this_ fellow had nothing to gain by joining us, not with Cowslip having enlisted him as his right-paw rabbit! I say we leave him right here for Woundwort's Owsla to pick up…"

"Right now, he is an injured rabbit. We aren't murdering him in cold blood and we are not leaving here to be captured by Woundwort. Alan, get him out of there!" ordered Hazel and Alan heartedly obeyed; although he too was suspicious of Silverweed's presence here, he realised that Cowslip valued Silverweed too much to risk losing him by sending him into the wilderness after them. Perhaps the telepathic mystic had indeed had a change of heart? Or was there something else going on?

Freeing Silverweed from his entrapment, they carefully laid him down on the grass, to check him for injuries. There were several bruises visible under his fur as well as some claw scratches; it was apparent that he had had a rough time getting here, reducing the possibility of him being a spy even more. Despite his battered state, he didn't seem to be in any immediate danger.

"He should recover soon enough; he's just in shock and exhausted from his ordeal. Let's take him back to the hideout where it is safe. We can question him after he has rested. Come on, let's get out of here." With some effort, McEwen untangled the balloon rigging from the tree, detached it from the burner assembly, and folded it up into a bundle, so they could take it back with them to the hideout for repairs. With the rabbits carrying Silverweed, they turned to return to their hideout at Buxton Hall.

Soon they were safety back at their hideout, with the rest of their companions. The others had frowned when they saw Silverweed, but, on Hazel's insistence, had let him rest. Alan and McEwen resumed tending to Blackavar's wounds using the recovered first aid kit; soon, the buck was neatly patched up and safely on the road to recovery, although he still remained unconscious from blood loss. Derek had gotten to work repairing the balloon envelope; luckily, other than the punctures caused by the crows, the envelope hadn't suffered any serious damage and could be easily be patched up using some emergency patches they had found in a small servicing kit in the basket.

After their chores were done, Alan divided their supplies into fifteen rations and they settled down to eat. The does fell upon the food with a ferocious appetite, not having eaten anything in days. With their hunger and thirst finally satisfied, they launched into their own story of how they had come to be there.

Hyzenthlay and Thethuthinnang were sisters from the same litter, of alien heritage; their parents Kopi and Lavender came from a small, easy-going warren called Redstone. When the does were still kittens, an Efrafan raiding squad had seized the warren, killed the Chief Rabbit and enslaved all survivors. Their mother had cared for her young after settling down in Efrafa and their father had even managed to secure a place in the Owsla due to his excellent tracking skills, allowing his family to enjoy the few privileges given to Owsla families, making their lives somewhat bearable.

Unfortunately, Kopi often got into arguments with his superiors, eventually getting into trouble with Vervain, who reported him as a traitor and a plotter; like many others before him, Kopi was demoted and executed for treason. The sisters, no longer retaining the privileges of having an Owsla father, were transferred to the slave squads, where they had remained to the present day, having watched their mother and siblings die over the years in slavery, while being forced to endure Vervain's bullying and abuse.

Vilthuril, Nelthilta and another doe Thrayonlosa were all native Efrafans of the same Mark, who had befriended the two sisters; born to slave parents, like all rabbits of low social status, they had been forced to endure the hardships of life in Efrafa since birth. Being does, they were expected to mate upon reaching puberty, according to Efrafan law. Mating, just like everything else in Efrafa, functioned according to the law rather than true love; every doe that came of age, was supposed to report to her Mark officer, who would present her to the other members of Owsla and Owslafa, who in turn would decide who would be her mate, much like an animal for sale at an auction market. Captain Campion, who had secretly befriended the group and often protected them from Vervain's bullying, had privately offered to become Hyzenthlay's mate, so she may enjoy the privileges that came with his high rank.

Normally, any Efrafan doe in her right mind would have accepted without a second thought as the privileges included no need for further slave labour, as well as more freedom than any common slave could ever hope for; however she knew that if she accepted, then she would be moved to another section in Efrafa, away from her friends (all visits between different Marks were strictly forbidden to avoid conspiracies).

Unfortunately, when she had declined the offer, much to Campion's disappointment, the Council had stepped in and informed her that they would be deciding on her future mate by the next full moon. It was then that she had realised that, unless she did something, she would be separated from her friends forever and probably be forced to mate with some authoritarian brute of an officer. Vervain, who still held a grudge against her because of her father, had been gloating about how _he_ would be appointed her mate and she would be his amusement slave for the rest of her life.

Blackavar, another close and the only male friend of Hyzenthlay's aside from Campion, and the mate of Thrayonlosa, was another native Efrafan, a slave, despite his pureblood ancestry. His Owsla father, who had been a close friend of Kopi's, had been demoted from Mark officer to slave for speaking out on his friend's behalf. Mostly due to Vervain's influence, the Council had accused him and his family of spreading disrespectful comments about Woundwort, as well as plotting rebellion. Thanks to their pureblood status, they were spared Kopi's fate, and instead sentenced to slavery within their own Mark. After Blackavar's parents had passed away, the dark-furred buck had attempted many times to apply for a position in the Owsla, but the Council, who still held a grudge, had denied him any possibility of entry. Instead he had been made a personal servant to Vervain, who regularly bullied and abused him.

At one point, Hyzenthlay had attempted to request permission from the Council to assemble a group to start a new warren far away, as a solution to Efrafa's growing population. Unfortunately, as Woundwort saw every warren outside Efrafa as a potential enemy, Hyzenthlay's request had been denied and met with threats of solitary confinement if she ever dared oppose Woundwort's authority again.

Finally, the group had given up their attempts for requesting changes, when the Council threatened them all with charges of treason. The only positive outcome was that Vervain, who was always on the lookout to report any traitors to his Chief, had ordered Blackavar to keep an eye on Hyzenthlay and her friends and report to him everything that was being said between them. Since Blackavar hated his master with a passion, they had included him in their plot for escape, making him _their_ eyes and ears against Vervain and the guards.

Their first thought was to attempt to tunnel out, past the boundaries, and flee during a storm, as not to leave behind any traces of scent that could be used to track them down. Unfortunately, due to Blackavar's warning that his master was secretly inspecting the burrows himself, hoping to discover evidence of such a plot, made it impossible to keep it a secret long enough to finish it, so the idea was discarded and a new plan was laid out: They would wait until a storm would hit, when they were above ground on silflay. Blackavar would attack the sentry in charge of the Mark and then they would flee; on his part of the plan, Blackavar had made sure to memorise a safe route across the island to the bridge, during one of his master's security inspections. As an afterthought, they had also agreed that if any of them should fall behind or get captured in the escape, the others wouldn't slow down to help them.

Their chance of escape had finally presented itself only a few days ago, during evening silflay. That night had coincidented with the arrival of Alan and his companions from the 21st century; the sudden appearance of the plane in the sky had stirred up a panic, giving them the opportunity to set their plan in motion.

Unfortunately, they hadn't made it very far when they were ambushed by the guards; Blackavar had been caught and brutally maimed in an attempt to scare the does into surrendering. Only thanks to the heroism of Thrayonlosa, who sacrificed herself to save her mate, did the rest manage to escape, including Blackavar. Unfortunately, their struggles were far from over when they realised that they were still trapped on the island with the only way across under heavy guard. Desperate to find a safe hideout until the Owsla would give up looking for them, they had ventured into the ruins of Buxton Hall, only to get themselves trapped in the freezer room when the door had slammed shut in a breeze. Blackavar had soon passed out from his injuries, while the others had waited miserably, expecting to die of hunger. It was then that Alan and his group had shown up and rescued them from their death trap.

Their story complete, the does were eager to hear their friends' own story; Bluebell, who was a gifted storyteller like Dandelion, launched into their story of how they had met Alan and his companions at Sandleford, their perilous journey to Watership Down, their discovery of humanity's forgotten past and its role in the creation of their world. Alan and the others would occasionally pitch in, as they explained all the events of their journey, which eventually led them into coming to Efrafa for recruits. Although the does were impressed with their new friends' courage to infiltrate Efrafa, while fully aware of the dangers involved, they were even more surprised to hear the untold story of the Four Brothers.

"You mean that everything Woundwort lectures us about are _lies_?" asked Thethuthinnang, as she leaned against Blackberry, with whom she seemed to have developed a great fondness. Alan nodded as he launched into the story of Hemlock's role in humanity's downfall and the animosity that had developed between the rabbits and the human race, dividing them forever.

"El-ahrairah, Rubscuttle, Hemlock and Laurel were the first rabbits to be born with human intelligence; although three of them were willing to share the new world with humans, Hemlock believed in absolute superiority of his kind on the Earth. As we've already told you, to prevent any competition, using some cunning strategies, he started a revolt, annihilating the last of the human race before they could rebuild. We are the last remaining members of our species, thrown into your world by accident; since we have no way of returning to our own time, we have decided to fulfil the wish of our ancestors. However, I don't think Woundwort would agree to this…"

"He would sooner kill you than make terms with anybody. Anyone who so much as _questions_ his leadership is killed or brutally punished," said Vilthuril with a shudder, looking at the still unconscious Blackavar, who would be bearing the scars of Woundwort's cruelty for the rest of his life. Although stabilised, the dark-furred buck remained unconscious, sedated with some of McEwen's morphine to relieve his pain.

"Well, that settles it then," said Hazel, "We must leave this place as soon as possible. The longer we remain here, the more chances we have of being discovered and caught. So, first thing in the morning, we are taking the balloon and leaving the same way we came. And when we return home, we must start making plans for going to war!" Unfortunately, little did they realise that their problems were in fact worse than they thought, the only one even remotely aware of it about it being Silverweed, currently unconscious and unable to deliver the warning while there was still time…

Night had fallen as all of Efrafa assembled for the ribbon cutting of the fully restored Project Black Inferno. Woundwort, Campion and Vervain stood on the edge of the silo, now cleared of all the earth, leaving the launch module in plain view. Robbins stood on the edge of the gangplank, at the missile's control port. The cores had been inserted into their housing and activated, resurrecting the ancient satellite; the controls on the panel sprang back to life as he inserted the safety key to arm the device and started programming the guidance system. After scanning the systems and finding no faults, he erased Red Hand's original flight path from the flight computer, and reprogrammed it for a new air strike. But, unbeknownst to the evil warlord, instead of marking Watership Down as the primary target, he marked the entire British Isles, including Efrafa, as a whole, so that the plasma bursts from the EMP gun would soon incinerate all of England, effectively sealing the doom for the world of the lagomorphs.

While Robbins was busy, Woundwort addressed the crowd assembled around the dig site, with the air of a newly aroused conqueror, "Soon Efrafa will finally achieve the glory it rightfully stands for; my noble ancestor's dream will finally be fulfilled. Our kind will rule without a single enemy to resist us; my domain will soon extend throughout the rest of the world, which will merge with my noble empire. I will completely suppress any idea of freedom or resistance; every creature will obey me and live through me. Any fool who defies my power, whether it is buck, doe or kitten will be slaughtered without mercy. I lead you all to glory for one purpose: to enforce my rule upon the world that Frith created for the dominance of rabbithood!"

"LONG LIVE STIH-RAH, RULER OF ALL RABBITS!" chanted the crowd, over and over again, most of them out of fear rather than loyalty. Woundwort then turned to Robbins, who had come to join in the festivities, "You have served me well Robbins. Name your reward." Robbins, still playing the act of loyal ally, knelt before the giant rabbit he called his master.

"My Lord, after my nemesis has been destroyed and you have gained the title of global conqueror, my task will be over and I will have fulfilled my debt to you. I wish to have your permission to leave Efrafa and return to my home time."

"Granted. You will be granted an official discharge from my service as soon as the task I assigned to you is fulfilled, as per our agreement. This should also give you the chance to witness your own revenge against your nemesis complete." Although Robbins felt uneasy at being forced to delay his departure until the last minute, when his true intentions could ultimately be revealed, he knew he had no choice but to comply, or risk his neck, should the General suspect him, "Thank you General. You are most generous."

"I always reward those who serve me loyally," replied Woundwort smugly, "Now, how much longer before my enemies are destroyed?"

"Tomorrow, at noon, Project Black Inferno will launch into space and annihilate all of your enemies from above; there will be nowhere for anyone to run. Within a day, your army will be clear to march into enemy territory to initiate the final extermination phase." On Woundwort's command, Robbins activated the arming sequence, initiating a 12-hour countdown to the launch. Project Black Inferno sat armed and waiting for lift-off, to unleash it wave of destruction…

Later that evening, Woundwort sat, having a private conversation with Vervain, "It seems you brought me a valuable asset after all, Captain Vervain. If that ithe speaks the truth, my long-awaited destiny has finally arrived. Ironic, isn't? Using Man's own invincible power to destroy our enemies, including Man himself! Such a pity our friend will have to die once the job is done though; I was beginning to admire his blind loyalty, fuelled by his foolish thirst for vengeance…"

"Then perhaps we should kill him now? We don't need him anymore," said Vervain scornfully; although Robbins had given him the opportunity for revenge against Alan, Vervain hated having someone more popular that him around. He remembered how he had once been a close friend of Captain Campion's, but had become bitter enemies after Campion had been promoted to Captain of Owsla instead of him.

Woundwort, who had been thinking along the same lines, coldly replied, "He _is_ up to something, I have no doubt about that. Knowing the likes of him, he probably intends to double-cross us once he's gotten his revenge. My ancestor had a similar traitorous ally..." he said, recalling the story of Sven Shertok, who had been Hemlock's spy among Drake's people.

"Shall I have him taken into custody sire, to ensure he doesn't escape?"

"No Vervain, don't arrest him _yet_; I want him caught in the act, so he can be made an example of to the rest of the warren. The last thing I need is anyone to continue questioning the potential of alliance with humans. His presence has caused enough confusion already… Don't worry, when the time comes, I'll deal with him properly. Now, does Captain Campion have any further news of our escaped does?"

"No sire, however he believes they may have joined up with the outsiders who infiltrated our territory today. He said their trail indeed leads to the abandoned man-burrow on the far side of Efrafa, where the outsiders were spotted. Should we launch an attack on them yet? After all, we have them at our mercy…"

"No Vervain, Robbins and I have come up with a better plan to force them into surrendering _willingly_. Ah, here he comes now…" At that moment Robbins entered, accompanied by Chervil, returning from having watched Alan's party recover their equipment, "Everything is set my Lord. As I expected, they came to retrieve their equipment and don't suspect a thing; it looks like they've taken the bait just as I planned."

He showed Woundwort the empty box of Valium capsules he had taken from McEwen's first aid kit and planted into the group's water supply; now that Alan and his companions had come and recovered their supplies, it was only a matter of time before they fell victim to their own blindness, allowing the enemy to infiltrate their hideout without resistance.

"Everything is going like clockwork my Lord. Once they are incapacitated, we can invade their hideout and take a few hostages we can use as leverage; your Owsla will be waiting to finish them off and then the hostages will be executed as well. Then, we can proceed to destroy their warren as well, before Project Black Inferno launches."

Woundwort was silent for a moment as he assessed Robbins' plan; although he would rather hasten the plan and launch a full-scale attack on the intruders at the first given opportunity, rather than coax them into surrendering through a foolish cat-and-mouse game, he realised Robbins probably knew certain human tactics, that the outsiders could have otherwise used against him, so decided to go along with the plan.

"Very well then. You, Vervain, Campion and Chervil will set out at once, to carry out the plan; after you have taken care of the outsiders here, I expect you back here to accompany another Wide Patrol to launch a final attack on their warren. Those pitiful fools won't even know what hit them! However," he said, his red eye gleaming threateningly, "be warned that I will be most displeased if your plan turns out to be a fiasco." Despite Woundwort's warning of punishment if things went wrong, Robbins was confident; after all, it wouldn't matter if things didn't work out anyway, as he would soon be on his way home and out of reach from Woundwort…

Back at Buxton Hall, Silverweed weakly opened his eyes and stared around him confused, the after-effects of asphyxia having temporarily blacked out his memory. Where was he? What had happened? His expression turned fearful, as he spotted the outsiders standing all around him, staring at him intently. Panic kicked in as the leader ithe knelt down beside him. Slowly, it all came back to him.

"I…I have come to warn you! We're all in terrible danger…!" His voice was gibberish and semi-hysteric, like that of a mad rabbit, "_He_ is still alive and seeks revenge against you… He intends to destroy our world to kill you…! You must stop him…!" Silverweed seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown as they all stared at him, thinking he was delirious or insane. Seeing that he was a danger to himself, Alan hastily motioned to McEwen who took out another syringe of morphine; within seconds, Silverweed was out cold again.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" Derek asked as they stared at Silverweed's sedated form, "Has he gone mad?" But with Silverweed now sedated, they wouldn't be able to try questioning him again for another twelve hours or so. So, instead, they turned their attention to the contents of the drawing room safe, which Derek had finally managed to force open.

The interior, sealed airtight for all these centuries, appeared virtually untouched; not a trace of rust or grime, the safe was divided into several steel drawers, stuffed with an assortment of interesting items, which were emptied on the floor was better examination.

There was an assortment of incomprehensible KGB documentation written in Russian, dating back to the Cold War era, as well as some postcards, slogans and newspaper clippings dating back to different eras of the Soviet Union, implying Sergey Petrograd's fanatical support of Communism. In another drawer, they found an assortment of personal effects, including a gold watch, leather chequebook, some papers and cards, and a ring bearing the familiar black-hand-held-in-a stop-gesture – the crest of the Red Hand Brotherhood. A death certificate signed by a local morgue bore the name of the infamous owner.

"Looks like these are the things our old friend Sergey was carrying on him the day he died," Alan figured, reading the death certificate, "Hmm… Death by heart attack? And only a week after we disappeared… Curious…"

In another drawer they found a world atlas, with different major cities around the world – particularly those which, Alan knew, formed key links in global industry, economy or power – marked in red circles with an x-sign across. The men frowned, as they recognised Red Hand's would-be targets for Project Black Inferno, which would have led to the collapse of power worldwide, pushing the world into a new war; only, thanks to a simple act of nature, which had taken Sergey out of the picture, that strike had never been carried out. Or rather, it had been _postponed_; and now the threat of Project Black Inferno, in the hands of a new mad master, was their problem.

In a folio, they found a collection of personal files on a number of individuals – from ordinary civilians to government personnel -, all registered as 'deceased.' Alan felt his blood run cold as he recognised the death certificates of Red Hand's past victims, including his own and those of his family. He had to hold back a sob as he saw the picture of his late daughter Lucy, at age five, smiling for the camera. Unable to look at it any more, he passed the file to Fiver and Pipkin, who, although couldn't read anything, could recognise the photo.

"Is this your daughter?" asked Fiver, recognising the similar eyes that Lucy had taken after her father. Alan nodded, looking away. How he wished she were still here with him… How did Robbins even have the stomach of killing such an innocent and adorable creature in cold blood? His fate of being eaten alive by that hawk had been too lenient a punishment…

"She is so sweet," said Pipkin, also looking at the picture. At this, Alan couldn't help but smile. The rest of the rabbits were passing the various documents and trinkets around, utterly fascinated by them, but at a loss as to what they meant, the very concept of reading or writing completely unfamiliar to them. The last drawer contained a green Soviet Army bag, containing a sealed aluminium cylinder of some chemical agent. Although he couldn't read the Russian inscription, the chemical formula was like plain English to Alan, as he recognised a solution of hypnotic chloroform, meant for military operations.

"Hey fellas, check this out!" Going through another dossier he had found in the safe, Derek had come across a collection of mechanical schematics. Finding himself in his field, he hadn't taken long to realise they were non other than the blueprints and codebooks of Project Black Inferno! They all gathered around, overjoyed by their luck; they now had the instructions of shutting down that weapon right at their fingertips! Alan didn't fail to notice his friend frown as he recognised the probe's navigation system.

"See, there is a central computer unit linked up to all key systems. And I regret to say it is part of a guidance system I had designed several years ago for a new communications satellite. It looks like those dirty bastards either stole it, or used their contacts to obtain it, and installed it in their precious toy." Alan and McEwen looked at the engineer in surprise.

"_Your_ guidance system? So does that mean you also know how to shut it down?" Derek nodded.

"The arming procedure involves two sets of security codes, which can be inserted via the probe's maintenance port; the disarming procedure involves the same steps in reverse. However, without the override codes, it will take a more drastic procedure: disconnecting the flight computer from the launch system. If that computer goes off line, all systems go into lock-down and the launch is aborted. There is an override switch that interrupts the data flow between the computer and the launch system, located on the maintenance port. All you have to do is hit that switch and the missile instantly goes dark, and it can't be reversed without special procedure. I designed this system personally…to my greatest shame," he added, feeling disgraced at the realisation that his own work had been used for a terrorists' weapon. Alan however looked pleased.

"That override system of yours is our best bet of stopping this thing. Can you describe to us what that override switch looks like and the procedure involved?" Derek carefully studied the blueprints of the guidance system for a few minutes, to refresh his memory, before replying.

"It is a large red button with the symbol Alpha-Omega on it. All you have to do is remove the safety cap and press it once, and in an instant, the job is done. However, in the unlikely event that we can't operate the switch, we could simply shut down the system by turning the starter key to 'abort'; this won't render the missile inoperable but at least it will shut it down. Assuming of coarse, that we can _reach_ the missile first."

"So what do we do now?" asked Hazel, looking at Alan for advice. Despite being the Chief Rabbit, and technically the leader of this group, this escapade was going beyond his capabilities. The ex-marine considered for a moment.

"I think it's best we stick with our original plan. Our mission is still far from over, I am afraid; the threat of Project Black Inferno still exists. On the bright side, we have found several recruits, and without even having to bust them out first," he said, winking at the does, "First, we need to get them to safety; if they are caught, the Efrafans will surely kill them. Then we must still find some way to infiltrate Efrafa and stop the launch…"

"Easier said than done I'm afraid, chum. You can be sure that Woundwort's troops outnumber us, not to mention that they are probably expecting us. For all we know, they may already be aware that we are here!" said Bigwig, frowning, "Exactly how do you plan to infiltrate their warren? It will be like a kitten trying to take on a lendri, for crying out loud!"

"And it gets better," Derek said, "I don't think the balloon can get us _all_ off the island in one go. We had calculated for a maximum of _two_ additions to our group, not _five_," he said looking at Hyzenthley and her friends, "What's more, we don't have enough reserve fuel for a round trip, just barely enough to get us off."

"What have we got, can you give me an estimate?" asked Alan, dreading the thought of having to leave anyone behind, "What if we dump all our equipment and strip the balloon of all excess ballast? Anything it takes…" Derek did a rough calculation, "Hard to tell… I don't know, maybe we could push it to six, seven of us maximum." Alan sighed upon hearing this.

"Well, I guess it is the does, Silverweed, and Blackavar who get first seats on this ride; one of us will also be going along with them, to fly the balloon. The rest of us will just have to draw straws I guess…" All faces fell, realising that half of them would be staying behind.

"We'll make due with what we have," Hazel said encouragingly, trying to boost everyone's low morale, "We'll wait until just after thanleao, so we can use the darkness as cover." They all settled down to rest until it was dark enough to sneak back outside and reassemble the balloon for take-off. Derek and McEwen had finished patching up the envelope and the spare propane cylinders had been brought up from the kitchens, to refuel the balloon in the morning. Everything seemed to be going like clockwork…or so they thought.

The mood lightened as the group made themselves comfortable around the fire, trading stories, as they waited for nightfall, so they could evacuate. Alan sat, reading through the profiles of Red Hand's victims; Miles, Mary, Lucy, himself, Derek, McEwen, amongst other names he didn't recognise. All those people – most with families – murdered, simply to keep an old lunatic's sick plan of war a secret. It sickened him to the core. He was mighty glad as McEwen passed him the water canteen.

"Cheers, Major," he said, gulping down some water and also offering some to Pipkin, who was snoozing on his lap. He would have settled better for the brandy in his hip flask, but he needed a clear head for the task that lay ahead; whoever got the few available seats on the balloon tonight, he wouldn't be among them. He wouldn't be going anywhere until Project Black Inferno was grounded for good. And that still didn't solve the problem of the threat of Efrafa.

"You know Major, sometimes life is a real bitch, isn't it … Major?" McEwen lay curled up on the floor, in what appeared to be a deep sleep, the leaking canteen still clutched in his hand. It was then that Alan felt a warm drowsiness slowly sweep over him. Why was he suddenly feeling so fatigued?

Within minutes his limbs and eyelids felt like lead and he couldn't fight the drowsiness any longer. He had another moment to realise that everyone else in the room were slipping into unconsciousness as well, dropping like flies, before he sunk into a drug-endured sleep caused by the doped water in their canteens, courtesy of a supposedly dead Robbins.

**Author's note:** Sorry about the cliffhanger, but I like building suspense. For those who don't like tragedy, be warned, the following chapters onwards, contain many character deaths and tragedy. However, please don't give up on my story because of that! Enjoy and please review. Thank you!


	25. Chapter 25 And Thunder Strikes

Meanwhile, hidden inside the basement of Buxton Hall, were Robbins, Vervain, Campion and Chervil, waiting silently for the right moment to make strike. After approaching the manor but finding it locked up tight, Robbins had led his infiltration party down a secret passage into the basement, once intended as an emergency escape route for the faction's key members in case of a police invasion back in his time. On the way, they had also stumbled across Red Hand's old secret armoury which he knew was hidden down there; he now carried a newly acquired arsenal of old grenades, the only part of Red Hand's weapons that had withstood the passage of time, intent of using them as part of his plan.

Staying silent and keeping themselves hidden in the dark, Robbins carefully consulted his watch, estimating how much time before the anaesthetic he had planted in the group's flasks took effect. Sometime around midnight, he signalled to his associates that it was time; they cautiously ventured into the manor, heading towards the only source of light that was coming from the drawing room.

They paused at the door and listened carefully, in case someone was still conscious; however, there wasn't a sound to be heard, other than the steady breathing of the sleeping. Cautiously, Robbins creaked the ancient door open, ignoring the loud creaking of the rusted hinges, and peered inside.

He could see Alan fast asleep on the floor before him, next to the two runt rabbits and Vilthuril. Hazel was curled up in a corner next to Hyzenthley and Silver, who resembled a large fluffy cushion with whiskers. Bigwig and Holly were lying curled up beside the door, where they were supposedly standing watch, their bodies having been swept aside when Robbins had opened it. Derek was lying before the dimming fire in the grate, his head cushioned on the stack of mouldy papers he had found in the safe. McEwen was sleeping in a standing position with his back resting against the wall. Blackberry, Bluebell, Nelthilta and Thethuthinnang were curled up on the floor before the fire alongside Silverweed and Blackavar. All of them were incapacitated, doped by the drugged water. Robbins sneered, "Boys, I believe we have a winner!"

They strode into the room and looked around carefully, staring at each of the outsiders in turn, making sure they were all properly drugged, as not to expect any sudden resistance. Vervain, having spotted Alan and impatient for revenge, turned to Robbins, "I say we rip the throat of this troublesome ithe out right here and take the others back for the General to deal with." With that he clawed the anaesthetised Alan across the cheek, causing blood to spill; but Robbins, although thoroughly amused by the sight, stopped Vervain before he could inflict any further damage.

"We have our orders; no killings _yet_ unless absolutely necessary. Besides, an easy death is too good for him; I want him to suffer by watching all his friends die before his eyes before he joins them. Remember what I said, his greatest weakness is his love and caring for his friends. We will use that to our advantage, to crush his spirit so we can eventually have him _begging_ us for death before we finally kill him. Surely that's much better than a quick merciful death, wouldn't you agree?" Vervain smiled evilly in agreement as the two of them, along with Chervil, sneered at the cruel predicament. Campion, however, wasn't at all pleased with their sadistic remarks.

"All right, that's enough!" he growled, "Cold-blooded murder is bad enough, gaining _pleasure_ from it is unacceptable. We are Owsla, not savage brutes!" Vervain looked at Campion with dislike.

"What's up your ear, Campion? We are only expressing our pleasure in carrying out the General's wishes. And I believe, it is non of your business how I deal with my enemies!" he hissed back at Campion who narrowed his eyes in warning, "While I am captain of Owsla, it is very much my business! I will not tolerate your sadistic behaviour any further; even enemy prisoners are entitled to certain rights and you are not to deprive them of it. Understood?" Vervain looked furious.

"The lives of prisoners belong to the victors, who are entitled to handling them as they see fit! Your softness will rub off on you one of these days Campion, mark my words!" he sneered. Campion glared at him in warning, "Treat anyone like that again and you'll face me! You think I don't know how you tend to use your 'privileges'? What do you think drove poor Hyzenthlay and her friends to running away and foolishly befriending these outsiders? Although I expect they will be punished anyway for desertion, if you dare harass them again…"

"This troublemaker and her friends will soon be pleading for the Black Rabbit for embarrassing me with their escape! You watch Campion, I'll make this slut of a doe quiver at the sight of me for the rest of her life, which I suspect won't be very long!" This threat only infuriated Campion even further as he glared at Vervain, "You stay away from them Vervain, for your own good!"

Although quivering at the sight of the furious Campion, Vervain had enough cheek to retort, "You dare undermine my authority? As Head of the Owslafa, I am entitled to administering punishments without your approval! When the General hears…"

"…that you're tempted to abusing your position for your own satisfaction, you will be very sorry," Campion finished for Vervain, "You know very well that Woundwort expects his instructions to be carried out specifically according to his instructions. I don't recall him giving you permission to torture or murder anyone as you please. Your job is to supervise the enforcement of the laws of Efrafa, not exploit it for your own sick pleasure! Now, hold your tongue and let's get to work." Vervain fell silent, yet continued to glare at Campion with hatred.

Since it was impossible to move all the outsiders out before the drug wore off, Robbins and his associates each selected a hostage that they could use as leverage. Campion took Hyzenthlay and Vervain took Pipkin, while Chervil tried to take Blackavar but the dark-furred buck was too heavy to carry, so he took Vilthuril instead. Robbins took Fiver, remembering how the young buck shared a close friendship with Alan.

Suddenly, he noticed the blueprints of Project Black Inferno lying under Derek's head. Picking them up, he tossed them into the fire, burning them to ashes, intent on not leaving his enemies any chance of ruining his plans. Then, spotting the balloon envelope spread out across the floor, he proceeded to rig a grenade to the purge valve, placing it carefully so it wouldn't be visible. Grinning evilly at his enemies' predicament, he turned to his associates.

"All right, we are done here. Let's move out! Once we have secured the hostages, we are escorting another patrol back to their warren to destroy it!" They turned and left the room, taking the four unconscious hostages with them; however, just as Campion was securing Hyzenthlay on his shoulders to follow the others out, he tripped over McEwen's first aid kit that was lying open on the floor. He hissed in pain as a morphine syringe stabbed him in the hip, injecting the anaesthetic into his bloodstream. Shaking off the syringe and relieved to see it, apparently, wasn't a serious injury, he followed his companions back towards the entrance to the secret passage. Before he could get there however, his vision went foggy and his limbs started weakening; he struggled in vain to fight the fainting sensation, before he collapsed unconscious on the floor, Hyzenthlay still on his back.

Robbins led the way out of the hideout, Chervil and Vervain in tow, taking the hostages with them. As they made their way back towards Efrafa, they noticed that Campion wasn't with them anymore. Vervain gleefully replied, "Never mind. If something has happened to him, well, that should teach him not to interfere in my affairs. That rabbit has been a thorn in my side for too long anyway. We'll just tell the General that he was captured and killed by the outsiders. Let's go!"

After they had returned to Efrafa and placed the hostages under heavy guard, Woundwort, outraged at his best Owsla officer being 'lost to the enemy', hastened the departure of his Owsla, to return to Watership Down for the final strike. Half an hour later, Robbins and the newly promoted Captain of Owsla Vervain were leading an army of Woundwort's finest soldiers out of Efrafa, through the dark of night, towards the enemy warren, to destroy it. Meanwhile, Alan's infiltration party in the smoking room slept soundly, completely unaware that three of their friends had been taken prisoner, or that their home was about to be attacked, or of the deadly trap rigged to their balloon…

Back on Watership Down, Hawkbit and Dandelion were standing night watch. Although it was way past nightfall, Speedwell's experience as an Owsla scout had taught him enough to know that night was the most favourable time for a surprise attack, so he had ordered each of the entrances to the Honeycomb patrolled by Hawkbit and Dandelion, much to their displeasure of losing their sleep. Frustrated by boredom and drowsiness, Hawkbit had left his post to join Dandelion, who was standing guard on the other side of the warren. Dandelion stared in the direction of Efrafa, now completely engulfed in the darkness of night, "Think the others will bring back any recruits?"

"I do hope so. We need to enlarge the Owsla as soon as possible; we won't survive another attack should Woundwort decide to send his whole army in." At that moment, Nildrohein came out of the burrow looking ecstatic.

"You've got to come! Violet is going into kindle. The warren's first litter has arrived!" Looking excited, the two sentries abandoned their posts and followed the doe into the warren, to join in the celebration. However, not five minutes passed before shadows of an army of Efrafan soldiers emerged from the woodland surrounding the Down; Vervain and Robbins led the way up to the beech hanger. Vervain called a halt.

"All right, the time has come to eliminate the outsiders once and for all. Coltsfoot, Charlock and Bartsia, take the leeth side. Thorn, Thistle and Burdock, take the freth side. Mudrowf, Groundsel and Moneywort, take the theth side. Robbins, Chervil and Thunder, with me. Attack!" They climbed the Down and surrounded the warren. After taking positions outside each visible escape route, Vervain gave the order, "Robbins, your turn!" Smiling evilly, the man took out two grenades, one in each hand, and pulled the safety pins out with his teeth. Then he tossed them down the entrance run into the depths of the Honeycomb.

Two loud explosions followed in rapid succession, along with the cries of pain and fear from the rabbits below. Another bigger explosion followed, as the nitroglycerine canisters Derek had foolishly stored in his quarters below, detonated from the disturbance; the beech tree was blown sky high, followed by a massive geyser of earth that shot out from beneath it before the entire Honeycomb caved in. As several bloodied survivors emerged from the ruins of their destroyed warren, the Efrafan soldiers fell upon them.

Hawkbit, Dandelion, Strawberry and Speedwell, who had miraculously survived the explosion, struggled to dig themselves out of the debris. But as they emerged, they found themselves face to face with the enemy. In an instant, a massacre had broken out, as the Efrafans slaughtered the Watershipers without mercy. Strawberry, who had already been badly injured by the explosions, was instantly torn to pieces. Speedwell managed to take down several Efrafans, but was horribly outnumbered and was soon overpowered and killed as well. Violet, her entire litter, Acorn, Buckthorn, Clover and Nildrohein had all perished in the destruction.

Only Dandelion and Hawkbit barely managed to fight their way through their murderous attackers and fled down the southern side of the Down, heading towards the canyon. Both rabbits were panting in pain and shock from what was happening to them, but determined to escape and find their friends. Soon they found themselves trapped at the water's edge, with the Efrafan Owsla approaching fast. Dandelion turned to Hawkbit, "That's it chap, we are done for!" Sure enough, Vervain stood in front of his troops, smiling maliciously.

"Surrender now outsiders, and we let you live. Unless you wish to join the rest of your friends into the Shadowlands?" Although expecting to die anyway, Hawkbit and Dandelion's anger and hatred towards the Efrafans' cruelty, overpowered their fear.

"Never!" they shouted in unison, despite knowing that they didn't stand a chance. Even if they surrendered, they would most likely be killed anyway or otherwise taken back to Efrafa as prisoners, a fate they knew would be worse than death. Sure enough, Vervain laughed cruelly, "Then the Black Rabbit can have you too. Robbins, finish them off!" The evil man tossed another grenade; the two rabbits ducked to avoid it as it exploded in mid-air beside Dandelion, sending large splinters into his liver, mortally wounding him.

Hawkbit looked at his fallen friend in despair. As he turned to look hopelessly at the water behind him, contemplating taking his chances by swimming, suddenly he noticed something that had been washed up on a sandbank near the shore; it was the still-inflated dingy from Alan's plane, which they had lost during the Enborne crossing back at Sandleford. After being set adrift, it had joined this new tributary until it had joined the unnamed river in the canyon beneath the Down. Hawkbit saw his chance.

Grabbing hold of the semiconscious Dandelion, he climbed onboard, taking his injured friend with him. A second before the Efrafans made it down to shore, he managed to nudge the dingy loose from the sandbar and away they went; the strong current instantly starting pulling them downstream, out of reach from the Efrafans. They could hear Vervain shouting in frustration, as Robbins tried throwing another grenade but missed; it landed in the water, where it exploded harmlessly. Soon, they had moved away from Watership Down, drifting south along the canyon.

Despite having survived the attack, Hawkbit felt horribly depressed. Their new warren was destroyed, seven of their friends had been brutally killed and there was a good possibility that the rest of them were also dead or otherwise captured by the enemy. He turned to tend to Dandelion, who was clinging to life by a thread, unaware that the current was carrying them towards the Efrafa, straight towards their remaining companions, leaving behind the ruins of their short-lived new home.

Several hours later, at dawn, sounds of moaning and groaning came from the smoking room of Buxton Hall; the anaesthetic was slowly beginning to wear off.

Alan weakly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings, confused, his memory blank. He was lying face down on a dirty tilled floor, his head feeling like a beehive, as if suffering from a terrible hangover. As he licked his dried-up lips, he felt something staining his cheek; a trickle of semi-dried blood from where Vervain had clawed him in his sleep, was running down his face. Feeling his alertness return, it slowly came back to him: the flight to Efrafa, seeking refuge at Buxton Hall, meeting Hyzenthley and the other runaway does, returning to retrieve their equipment, finding Silverweed trapped, returning to their hideout and making plans… The rest he couldn't remember.

Sitting up groggily, he looked around the room, seeing the rest of his companions, lying in awkward positions, fast asleep. Then he noticed that Hyzenthley, Fiver, Vilthuril and Pipkin were gone and that there were some fresh sets of footprints on the dusty floor that he didn't remember seeing there last night. These footprints led out of the smoking room door, which was now wide open… With sickening dread, realisation hit him; they had had some unwelcome visitors last night! Ignoring the throbbing pain in his temples, he got to his feet and rushed out the door, following the intruder's trail.

"Fiver! Pipkin! Hyzenthlay! Vilthuril? Where are you?" he called. Hurrying back to the domed hallway, his foot kicked something on the floor by the door. Reaching down, he picked up the morphine syringe that had injected Campion. Then he saw it; lying in the shadows close to the wine cellar entrance under the stairs, were two unconscious rabbits lying on top of each other, one of which he recognised as Hyzenthlay. But there was no trace of the others.

Hurrying forward, he pulled the two rabbits into a patch of sunlight beneath a window, so he could get a better look at them. Hyzenthley was uninjured, but unconscious like her attempted kidnapper, who looked somewhat familiar… Then Alan remembered the description he had read in the book; a well built, brown-furred, green-eyed rabbit. It was Captain Campion of the Efrafan Owsla!

Alan was speechless for several minutes. There was no doubt why he had come here; to take hostages so they could lure the rest of them into an ambush or force them to surrender. That also explained why their equipment had been left undisturbed; the food and water they had consumed last night must have been _doped_! After waiting for them to pass out, the Efrafans had broken in and snatched away some of them, without fear of being interrupted. Undoubtedly, someone must have also given him that scratch on the cheek in torment. But how on earth did _they_ know how to plan such an advanced scheme? There was no time to dwell on that however; he felt sick at the thought of what Woundwort could do to his friends. What if they killed them first and only admitted it later? A sharp voice suddenly snapped him out of his thoughts.

"What in Frith's name are you doing? What's going on here?" It was Bigwig, who had also regained consciousness and realised something was wrong. Alan turned to the mighty veteran urgently, "Wake up the others, fast! There's been trouble!" Not wasting a second, the mighty veteran hurried back to the smoking room yelling, "Everybody on your feet, now! There is trouble!"

In contrast to a usual alert, when they would all rise instantly at the call, now a bunch of groaning and moody rabbits and humans slowly stood up, "What's going on? Is it another one of Bigwig's Owsla training drills?" groaned Silver as he weakly got to his feet, feeling the after-effects of the anaesthesia.

"Fiver, Pipkin, and Vilthuril are missing," Alan said, hurrying in, carrying the slowly stirring Hyzenthlay in his arms, "Someone took them while we were asleep. I just found the Efrafan Owsla Captain unconscious in the hallway. It seems they poisoned our food before we went to retrieve our supplies; that's why nothing was taken or destroyed. It was a cunning trap to get us." Loud swearing from the bucks and gasps of fear from the does were instantly heard at the news.

"And look! The codebooks for the satellite are also gone!" Derek said, glancing into the remains of the fire, where the documents now lay in ashes, "So much for doing this the easy way…" Hazel, however, who seemed to have set his mind on finding his brother, replied, "It doesn't matter how it happened; it's done. We have no choice but to go after them. You said their Owsla captain is still here?" Alan nodded.

"Yes, I found him just outside the door with Hyzenthley lying on top of him…" He saw Hazel's face curl into a dangerous frown at that remark, but shrugged it off, "It seems he tried to take her but had a bit of an accident," he said, pulling out the syringe from his pocket and showing it to the others, "His patrol couldn't revive him, so they must have left him for dead." They hurried back to the hallway where Campion still lay unconscious, heavily sedated from the drug.

"He must know where they have taken Fiver and the others. When he wakes we can question him," Hazel said, hope written on his face. Bigwig however looked doubtful, "Interrogate an Efrafan Owsla captain, just like that? He won't tell you, not the truth anyway. I would die before betraying my Chief to the enemy!" Alan nodded grimly, realising Bigwig was right; although, in the story Campion had made peace with Watership Down after Woundwort's downfall and although he had better principles than most of the other Efrafans, he still was fiercely loyal to his Chief and extremely courageous. He seriously doubted they could encourage him to help them and attempting to force the truth out of him would probably do more harm than good. Yet, they had to try.

They carried Campion's unconscious form back into the smoking room. Hyzenthley, who had awakened by now, threw herself at Hazel, the two of them lovingly touching noses. Alan turned to the others, "While we wait for Campion to awake, let's search the place. Maybe we can find some clue that can give us a useful lead, in case he refuses to cooperate ("I'll _make_ him cooperate if I have to!" Bigwig growled under his breath)". Leaving Hazel and the does to keep an eye on Campion, the rest hurried out, split up and starting searching the house, from top to bottom.

Alan, Silver and Bigwig went back down the spiral stairwell that led to the kitchen and started searching the basement, all closets and corners. Although they found the kidnappers' trail, there was no sign of _how_ they had broken or any trace of their missing friends. Baffled, they returned to the hallway, where they met up with Bluebell, Blackberry and McEwen, who had just returned from searching the ground floor, also without success.

"We looked all over; not a trace. Other than the tracks that lead to the wine caller, there is nothing indicating how they got in, or where they took the others. Their tracks just come in, return to the cellar door and stop. It's almost as if they just vanished into thin air. I don't understand it."

"There is something very odd going on here," Bigwig said sniffing at the scent the kidnappers had left behind, "By Frith of Inle, I could swear that the scent from one of those scum smells a lot like…"At that moment Blackberry appeared behind them, "Campion is awake."

They hurried back to the drawing room, where they found Hazel already engaged in a rather stiff conversation with Campion, while the does kept a safe distance between themselves and the Efrafan Captain; although they respected him to a certain extent, his presence here was only a cause of fear and concern for them, given the intentions of his visit. Meanwhile, Campion, apparently thinking he was a prisoner, stood facing Hazel with a firm attitude, as if refusing to submit to the enemy. Hazel addressed Campion calmly, yet sternly.

"Let's not play war games Campion. What your Chief is doing is wrong and will only bring death and destruction upon Efrafa!" But Campion only seemed to take offence at Hazel's words, "Just who do you think you are to judge my Chief's leadership, outsider?" he said icily, distrust written in his eyes, "He may be a strict and unpleasant ruler at times, but the well-being of his warren is his life! He would rather die before letting any harm come to our people!"

"Yes, he would rather die all right…that let his slaves go free!" Blackberry interjected coldly, "You think we don't know the truth about your master? We have seen enough to tells us all about him!" He gestured in the direction of the mauled Blackavar, still unconscious. "How can you justify such cruelty?" Although a slight twinge of shame crossed Campion's face, the Efrafan Captain of Owsla remained firm.

"And how can _you_ justify your own actions? You think _I_ don't know how your human _friend_ attacked Vervain's patrol and killed four of our Owsla? And now you come to infiltrate Efrafa and kidnap our does, in hopes of enlarging your Owsla against us? And your former companion who joined us, told us about how you left him to die at the clutches of an eli…"

"Just a minute," interrupted Derek, "What do you mean, _our former companion_ told you? You mean there is another human like _us_ aiding Woundwort? Who?" Before Campion could explain however, a faint moan was heard from Silverweed, as the mystic finally regained consciousness. For a moment he stared blankly at each of them in turn, before emitting a squeal of terror, as he realised he was surrounded by the outsiders. Alan, seeing his imminent panic, calmly knelt before him to meet his gaze, "It's all right; we're not going to hurt you…" However, Silverweed's fear didn't recede; but it wasn't because of Alan standing so close to him.

"He…he's alive and coming after you…he intends to destroy our world…you must stop him…!" Silverweed mumbled in an almost indistinctive voice, sounding delirious. McEwen seemed to be considering sedating him again, but Alan held the buck firmly with both hands, trying to calm him down, "Easy now. Just relax." Silverweed slowly calmed down somewhat, yet cringed slightly from the human holding him, "Now, tell us what is going on. _Who_ is still alive and out to kill us?" Finally, Silverweed pulled himself together and explained.

"It's your traitorous companion who tried to kill you at my master's warren. He has formed an alliance with my master's friend, General Woundwort. He plans to…" Alan instantly felt his insides curl up in shock as the piece of the puzzle regarding the strange amount of knowledge the Efrafans seemed to have regarding Project Black Inferno and all the _human_ strategies they had been using against them…It had been so obvious, yet none of them had realised it until now, "_Robbins is still alive_?"

"What does that dead wanker have to do with all this? You aren't seriously telling us it's him who's causing all this trouble? Al, I think this guy's cheese has slid off his cracker," said Derek, refusing to accept the obvious. Gesturing at Derek to shut up, Alan turned back to Silverweed, "Tell us."

"Some time after you left, he returned, accompanied by the vicious General Woundwort and his Owsla. My master gave them those…devices of yours and all the information he had about you. Your former companion, in particular, hates you with a great passion and longs to see you all suffer. He has told Woundwort about you, who also wants you dead, regarding you as a threat to his power. He intends to use some sort of old human weapon he has in his possession, only Robbins secretly intends to double-cross him and use it to wipe out our world! I could sense it by looking into his mind like I did to you. I have been trying to find you for days, to warn you…"

"And exactly what's it to _you_?" asked Bigwig scornfully, remembering what had happened at Cowslip's warren, "I was under the impression you were Cowslip's lackey through and through…"

"I AM A WEAK COWARD, ALL RIGHT?" Silverweed bellowed in anger, although mostly referring to himself rather than Bigwig, "By Frith of Inle, I am not proud of it! I have been a slave to Cowslip all my miserable life and I've never been able to escape it, no matter how much I wanted! Why do you think I risked my life to find and warn you that were are facing _annihilation_?" They all shrank back in shock at the realisation that Robbins and Woundwort were indeed planning to launch Project Black Inferno…and ultimately dooming this entire future world to catastrophe.

"I guess everything makes sense now. It wasn't _Vervain_ who told Woundwort about Project Black Inferno after all; it was _Robbins_. He must have run into Vervain and offered him a chance for revenge, in exchange for granting him an audition with Woundwort. Once at Efrafa, Robbins told Woundwort about us being time travellers from the past, whose presence in this world would inevitably threaten his rule. Thus he agreed to help Robbins restore Project Black Inferno, so they could use it to destroy us. A gullible, power-hungry megalomaniac like Woundwort wouldn't miss such an opportunity even if it meant cooperating with a human and we know Robbins specialises in manipulating others for his own gain. And if they do launch that missile, we'll all be as good as dead. The situation is much worse that we thought."

"So now we have all our enemies having teamed up against us. Wonderful," McEwen muttered grimly. Campion frowned; although his Chief had assured him of Robbins' loyalty, the Efrafan Captain of Owsla had suspected from the start that something wasn't right about that human. Still, hearing the accusation from a band of outsiders still left him far from convinced.

"He came to Efrafa asking for help; my chief had the decency to admit him even if he was a human," he explained, as they all turned their attention back to him, his expression darkening again, "And this further proves that my Chief is _not_ the racist tyrant you speak of. He is accepting of anyone who cares about the well-being and the safety of our warren, even a lowly human…"

"Only _he_ doesn't care an iota about your well-being; he only wants to use Woundwort's cooperation to kill us all!" Alan retorted sharply, realising that with a vengeful Robbins on Woundwort's side and with Project Black Inferno now under their control, it was now only a matter of time, "Don't you realise that this weapon he intents to use to 'contribute to your warren's safety', will only spell out the doom of your world? Project Black Inferno is nothing less than a cold-blooded instrument of mass destruction, Campion!"

Although he slightly recoiled at the revelation that Robbins was indeed traitorous, Campion seemed to take the remark about his chief's blindness as an insult, as he coldly retorted, "You expect me to believe some codswallop story that my Chief is being _manipulated_? True, that fellow is suspicious and I don't trust him myself, but one thing that you should know about the General is that nobody can stand a chance of deceiving him; he would see through a lie with little difficulty. And you tell me your former companion has been planning the destruction of our world under my master's nose all along? You are only bluffing, to poison me against my Chief!" They all looked appalled at Campion's blind loyalty and stubbornness.

"Bluffing?" Bigwig shouted, looking scandalised, "Is it bluffing when that wretched bastard tried to _strangle_ me? Is it bluffing when he murdered Alan's family in cold blood for no reason? Not to mention Vervain and his thugs attacking our warren and slaughtering two of our friends unprovoked?" Campion frowned at this but said nothing as Bigwig went on, "And you, kidnapping our friends to use as leverage? What kind of honour do you call that, huh? Your Chief claims to be a patriot of rabbithood, yet he kills or enslaves every rabbit he meets, while our friends have risked their lives on our behalf and asked for nothing in return!" Campion however, looked disgusted as he realised that the outsiders actually saw these three humans as one of them.

"You lot willingly become servants to these humans?" he spat, "Don't you realise they are going to become the destruction of everything we rabbits have worked to achieve; everything we hold dear, our homes, our families, our very freedom is at stake while these humans exist? Frith created this land for us and you are willing to share it with the reminder of a human race that once used us as slaves and food? If anyone should be justified, it should be _you_ for offering these ithel a new home among our kind! Pure abomination! What did your 'friends' bribe you with for your cooperation? Some flayrah perhaps?" The Watership rabbits were glaring at Campion with pitiful, yet furious expressions. Bigwig, his eyes narrowed to slits, growled dangerously back at Campion, "I'd watch your lip old son. My patience is already on thin ice with you!"

"That's enough!" Hazel shouted before the argument could lead to a scuffle, "Campion, you don't believe us, do you?" Campion shook his head firmly, "No, I don't. And I would advise you lot to reconsider what it is _you_ are doing. General Woundwort will have no reason to harm you if you aid him in bringing this menace to justice, before it is too late." At this, Bigwig lost his temper, yet luckily refrained from lashing out at Campion.

"You mean, we trade their lives to save ours?" he spat in disgust, "We'd sooner sacrifice ourselves to the Black Rabbit, than deliver our friends to face your _justice_," Bigwig growled, emphasising the last word as if he was referring to something utterly disgusting, "They have proven themselves to be loyal friends, while your Chief's precious ally has manipulated you all like kittens. It's _you_ who is at fault Campion, not us!" Seeing that they were getting nowhere and worrying that they were running out of time, Alan spoke, before Bigwig could lose control completely and strike Campion.

"Campion, if I were to show you some reliable evidence that proves our accusations, would you believe us then?" Ignoring the insult to his pride of being spoken to by a human, Campion asked coldly, "What could you possible have that would prove your ridiculous accusations?" he challenged Alan, who surprisingly smiled, remembering something that would do the trick, as he turned to Cowslip's mystic, "Silverweed, do you think you could show Campion my memories, like you did to me, so we can convince him that we speak the truth?" Silverweed nodded and approached Campion.

"Touch my paw Alan," he instructed, extended his left forepaw to the man, who gently grabbed hold, "You too Captain Campion. Now stand side by side, so I can keep eye contact with you. Try not to blink." Campion, suspicious, yet overwhelmed by curiosity, obeyed. The mystic rabbit stared at them, his eyes wide and unblinking, as his pupils turned glassy; instantly, Alan felt the same unpleasant sensation in his head. However, this time, instead of seeing glimpses of his own memories, he saw Campion's, as Silverweed's far sight created a mental link between the two minds:

_Campion as a kitten, being lectured by his patriotic father about the superiority of the race of rabbits and the solemn duty of every healthy buck to serve Efrafa and General Woundwort to the death…_

_Campion's father being executed for 'failing in his duties' and Campion joining the Owsla, along with Vervain, who had been his closest friend then, later being promoted to Captain of Owsla by Woundwort for his craftiness and bravery, however ruining his friendship with Vervain, who out of jealousy and spite, developed an intense hatred for him. _

_Vervain returning to Efrafa with Robbins, their plan to destroy Alan and his friends, watching Robbins prepare Project Black Inferno while Woundwort announced his takeover of the world and the imminent destruction of all his enemies. Campion, Robbins, Vervain and Chervil breaking into their hideout through the secret tunnel under the wine cellar, Campion accidentally getting injected with the syringe and collapsing in the hallway, while Vervain and the others deliberately left him behind to die… _

Campion too was seeing Alan's memories flash before his eyes: _Alan's unhappy childhood with his estranged brother and without his mother, the death of his father, his years at the orphanage, being drafted during the war and the death of his brother. _

_The ambush at Nuthanger Farm, Robbins shooting Mary and Lucy, his long misery, the flight into the future, meeting the Sandleford rabbits, their journey, Cowslip and the savages. _

_Watership Down, the discovery of the HAB, learning the fate of the old world, the Four Brothers and Hemlock's betrayal. The Efrafans attacking, the deaths of Boxwood and Haystack, Mallow's attempt to kill Pipkin and Fiver, the flight to Efrafa, meeting the escaped does and Blackavar. Finding Silverweed trapped, being doped and passing out, awakening to discover their friends missing, and finding Campion unconscious in the hallway, yet sparing his life in hopes that he would see past his hate…_

Then the connection broke. Alan and Campion collapsed, panting and shaking violently. Although Alan had been expecting to witness some unpleasant things in Campion's head, what he had just seen had shaken him to the core; Campion had grown up a similar life to that of a brainwashed son of a Nazi family. All his life, he was influenced by propaganda to live for his Chief and warren, taught to distrust strangers, particularly humans. All the lessons of friendship and love handed down to El-ahrairah's descendents had no place among Woundwort's people. Campion knew only a life of fighting, pride, hatred, loss and pain. Happiness and true friendship were among the many things that he knew nothing about…

Campion too, stood shell-shocked from everything he had just seen in Alan's memories. From the fearless, firm captain of Owsla, now the buck was trembling like a frightened kitten. Not only had this human been telling him the truth all along, but now Campion, his eyes having being opened as if from an epiphany, realised for the first time in his life, that his Chief had been using him all his life as a mindless pawn for his dirty work. Campion shuddered, remembering all the innocents he had helped capture and enslave at his leader's pleasure. Overwhelmed with shame and grief, his ears drooped, as he stared at the floor, feeling worse than he had ever felt in his life, his pride and courage all gone.

Silverweed was staring at the distraught Campion with pity, realising how the badly misled rabbit felt, having finally seen the error of his ways, just like he had. Alan was also staring at Campion sadly, realising how his dark past, which the rabbit had always chosen to ignore, now rested heavily on his conscience. Bigwig finally broke the silence, "Well, I suppose that dispels any doubts, doesn't it Campion?"

The brown rabbit slowly looked up to face them, an expression of deep shame and loss written on his face. "I was so…wrong," he whispered as he stared at Alan and the others, feeling so deeply ashamed and filled with self-hatred. They all stared at each other for a few seconds before Campion spoke again, "What do you want me to do?"

"Help us stop Project Black Inferno; our goal is to stop the launch and free our friends, not harm your people. If anything, we are trying to _help_ them escape that miserable life Woundwort has condemned them to," Alan said, pleased to see that the impossible had happened; they had just found a useful ally on the enemy side in Campion. Like Hyzenthlay had said, the toughened Captain of Owsla still had a kind heart, in direct contrast to his Chief.

"There is something else you should know," Campion suddenly said, "Woundwort plans to attack your warren to ensure that, should any of you escape, you won't have any safe place of retreat. I was supposed to lead the Owsla there last night." The Watershipers all tensed up at the thought of their friends being attacked unawares by the Efrafan Owsla. Was it already too late? Alan turned to the others.

"All the more reason to get moving right now. Fiver, Pipkin and Vilthuril could be in grave danger as we speak. Come on, we have to get the balloon back together, so we can evacuate the does and Blackavar to safety. Come on, move it!" Hastily finishing the patching-up, they picked up the envelope and returned to the balloon crash site.

Derek, McEwen and Alan feverishly got to work, reassembling the repaired balloon, while Bigwig, Campion, and the rest of the Owsla stood watch for more Efrafans. The does watched, fascinated by the human ingenuity and even Campion couldn't hide his amazement. Unfortunately, in their hurry and anxiety, nobody noticed the grenade that Robbins had rigged to the vent valve, waiting to be detonated when someone attempted a landing…

After an hour of hard work, the balloon stood assembled and inflated again; with the propane cylinders they had salvaged from Buxton Hall, they were able to refuel the burners, enough to get the same number of passengers that had come, off the island.

They helped the does and Silverweed into the basket, after reassuring them that it was safe; Hyzenthlay was tempted to stay behind to help search for Vilthuril but Hazel was able to talk her out of it. Nelthilta, who seemed terrified at the prospect of flying, had to be force carried aboard, all the while screaming and moaning. Hyzenthley and Thethuthinnang tried their best to keep her calm while Alan, with McEwen's help, carefully heaved Blackavar's semiconscious form onboard. Although they had treated the buck's injuries and he was definitely on the road to recovery, he was still weak from heavy blood loss. Then came the question as to _who_ would pilot the balloon on the return trip.

"McEwen, you should be the one to fly this thing back; you are a more qualified pilot than either me or Derek." McEwen however shook his head, "I am a chopper pilot; I have never piloted a balloon in my life. I am of more use _here_." Before Alan could argue, Derek spoke up, "Look here fellas, we can't waste precious time arguing; for all we know, Woundwort might already be underway with an army. I'll settle this; _I_ will pilot the balloon. You two are far more experienced soldiers than me, so you can handle the situation better; I have already told you everything I could about disarming the missile. I can fly us all back to the Down, refuel and then come back for the rest of you. You can signal me with this," he said, handing Alan the walkie-talkie before climbing in. Alan untied the grapnel line.

"Take care mate. Just get back quickly and move everyone down into the HAB; the Efrafans can't reach you down there." The engineer nodded in reassurance, "Don't worry about me Al. You just watch yourself; I don't want to be digging my best mate's grave any time soon." Giving his friend the thumbs up, he powered up the burners. The balloon started to rise and then floated away as it got caught in the breeze. They watched as it drifted over the canyon and out of sight, carrying Derek, Hyzenthlay, Nelthilta, Thethuthinang, Blackavar and Silverweed to safety.

"All right, we have a job to do. Let's go." They returned to the manor and headed for the wine cellar, where Campion and his group had come through. They all crowded inside the small room and Campion pointed at a large tile on the floor, "There, that's where we came through; there is a secret man-made cavern that leads outside, close to the boundaries of the Crixa. I overheard Robbins tell Woundwort that if you don't surrender, he intends to use the tunnel to send his Owsla in, to capture you by force. Woundwort wants your three human friends alive but the Owsla have orders to finish off anybody else who attempts to resists." Alan looked grimly at the others; with this secret tunnel under the manor, their hideout was no longer safe and they were on borrowed time, until Woundwort became fed up with his games and came in for the kill.

"Not much use to us; perhaps we should try and block it up and reinforce the hideout, so we can wait for Derek to return?" asked Holly, but Alan, having just had a suspicion, asked, "Campion, are there any other passages down there that lead into Efrafa?" The Efrafan Captain considered for a moment.

"There was another _blocked_ passage that seemed to lead in the direction of Efrafa. Robbins said it was once used by his old associates to get to the weapon…" Alan's eyes instantly lit up with an idea.

"I think we may be onto something here; if that other passage isn't too badly blocked, we might be able to use it to make our way through, all the way into Efrafa. Right, Campion, I need you to go back to Woundwort and give him a false lead; tell him we accept his terms of surrendering in exchange for our friends. Tell him we will meet on the edge of Efrafa for the exchange, so he can redirect all his troops there. While they are distracted, we will try and sneak in through that secret tunnel and free our friends, before they know what's happening. If we move swiftly, we should also be able to also reach the missile and disarm it, before making our escape. Keep a sharp eye out for us, but keep a low profile until the last possible second, should things get out of hand. Do you think you can do all this?"

"I'll try, but I can't guarantee anything; Woundwort is highly suspicious of everything unusual and I already feel guilty enough, about to betray a chief I have served loyally for so long. I will literally be betraying Efrafa, even if it's for the greater good." But Alan shook his head in reassurance, "No Campion, _you_ are not betraying Efrafa; _Woundwort_ is, by leading you all down a dark trail of slavery and misery. You are the only one now who can save your people from that tyranny." Campion nodded, before turning around and leaving to return to Efrafa, without another word. Hazel turned to his friends.

"Going down this hole might mean walking into a death trap; the passage might be a dead end or we might find the Efrafan Owsla waiting to ambush us on the other side. But my brother is somewhere in there, so I are going in after him; anybody who doesn't want to risk his life can wait here." But everyone shook their heads.

"No, Hazel-rah. We are all in this together. We are with you all the way and we don't give an acorn about the dangers involved!" Hazel smiled in gratitude. Alan took out his knife and drove it through the gap between the tile and floor. With little effort, the tile came out of the flooring, revealing a pitch-black hole with narrow stone steps, leading into silent darkness below.

After tying some dried weeds and rags onto the end of some stout sticks, he took out the jar of formaldehyde he had salvaged from Cowslip's warren. After drenching the buds with the oily substance, he struck a match and set them ablaze, improvising a couple of makeshift torches, allowing them to conserve their diminishing flashlights. Although the light of the flame penetrated the darkness well, the hole still looked extremely creepy, like staring into the entrance of a tomb.

"Let's go; Major, keep your flashlight handy; I'll do the same with mine. It looks very dark down there and I don't know how long these torches will burn. Also, we must keep the pistols ready at all times, in case we encounter an ambush." Alan, McEwen, Hazel, Bigwig, Holly, Silver, Bluebell and Blackberry stepped onto the stairs and descended into the secret tunnel that would lead them to their destination…or their doom.

Meanwhile, Derek and his five passengers were well clear of Efrafa. However, the wind was carrying them in the wrong direction; instead of flying _north_, towards Watership Down, they were flying _eastward_. Derek sighed with frustration, "We aren't getting anywhere this way; if we delay any longer, Woundwort and his army will reach the Down first and it will all be over. I'll set us down here and we can walk the rest of the way." He pulled at the line that controlled the purge valve, to begin their descent, unaware that the cable was tugging on the pin of the concealed grenade, "What's wrong with this damn thing? Come on, you blasted little…!"

He tugged harder and finally heard the valve open, just as something fell out of the envelope, into the basket. Bending down to pick it up, his eyes instantly went wide in terror as he recognised the pin of a grenade, "Oh, shit!"

Before his last words had even passed his lips, the grenade detonated, blasting the envelope wide open; the balloon instantly started falling like a stone, as it lost all of its lift. As the wreckage hit the ground, the fuel tanks ruptured, causing it to burst into flame. Soon, the flaming remains of the craft lay scattered all over the ground, amidst the incinerated corpses of Derek, Hyzenthlay, Nelthilta, Blackavar, Thethuthinang and Silverweed. They were all dead.

Not too far away, the explosion was seen by Robbins and Woundwort, who had been watching, waiting for it to happen. Woundwort gave a triumphant smirk, "A fitting fate for those filthy deserters and traitors. Now, let's go and brief our guests of their fate!"

Author's note: Sorry about all these deaths, but the story wouldn't be very exciting without some tragedy. Besides, remember that time travel is a powerful and complicated thing… catch the hint? Enjoy and please review!


	26. Chapter 26 The Secret Passage

Fiver weakly opened his eyes, lost and confused. As he took in his surroundings, he realised he was no longer with his companions at their hideout. Instead, he was lying at the bottom of some sort of large, vertical shaft with dirty stonewalls, which was open to the sky. In the centre of the shaft stood a large contraption completely unfamiliar to him, yet extremely menacing in appearance; tall, black in colour and beak-shaped at the top, with small sharp wings close to the lower end; Project Black Inferno stood before him, waiting to be launched.

As he tried to move, he realised, to his utmost horror, that his paws were tightly bound with strips of wire; another length of wire also formed a noose around his neck, tethering him to the missile. Try as he could, the binds didn't give and only gave him painful welts on his wrists and ankles, which began to bleed under the strain. Exhausted and in pain, he gave up. Then he realised he wasn't completely alone after all; not too far away were Pipkin and Vilthuril, also tightly bound and collared with wires. There was no sign of any of their other companions.

With some effort, he managed to crawl towards them, just as they too regained consciousness, looking around confused and scared.

"Fiver? Wh…What happened? Where are we?" muttered Pipkin fearfully, realising he was completely immobilised. Vilthuril looked utterly terrified, "We are back in Efrafa! I can tell from the scent. Oh Frith, they've caught us!" At that moment, several figures emerged from an opening in the stone wall. The three prisoners gasped in shock as they recognised the man in front; realisation hit Fiver like a stone at the sight of Robbins, who had apparently survived the hawk attack and now sought revenge. But that was nothing compared to what followed right behind him; the sight of Woundwort's horrific appearance caused all three rabbits to shrink back in fear. Vervain and two other savage rabbits stood at attention behind their master, while Robbins took charge.

"Long time no see... Let me introduce you to my new friend, General Woundwort. You should be honoured to stand in his presence; very few rabbits of your lowly status ever do," said Robbins sadistically as Woundwort smiled maliciously, "Welcome to the hospitality of Efrafa, outsiders. I trust you are finding the accommodation satisfactory?"

"No, I can't say we are," replied Fiver coldly, having mustered enough courage to control his fear. _They need us alive for leverage, otherwise we would be dead already,_ he thought in self-reassurance. The General however didn't look pleased at Fiver's cheek.

"I would advise you to mind your tongue, you little runt. You will find that I will not tolerate insolence from anybody, least of all an outsider. Vervain, move that traitorous filth of a doe to the far end of the chamber, so that I may demonstrate the penalty for desertion and conspiring with the enemy!"

Greening evilly, Vervain signalled to the two guards and they dragged the terrified Vilthuril by the ears, to the far end of the chamber and moved away. On Woundwort's command, Robbins took out a grenade from his belt and tossed it towards the frightened doe. For a few seconds nothing happened and Fiver was beginning to hope that something had gone wrong, yet his sixth sense told him otherwise. Suddenly the grenade detonated, blasting Vilthuril into a bloody mess of bits of raw meat and shattered bone. Fiver gasped in horror at this horrible sight, Pipkin cowering behind him, both of them about to be sick. Satisfied with having crushed what little courage his prisoners had left, Woundwort went on speaking, as if nothing had happened.

"You see what happens to weak fools who dare defy my power; the same fate awaits every other creature that refuses to bow to me, including your remaining friends who are expected to come to your rescue. You two ruts may actually serve a minor purpose other than food (Fiver and Pipkin gasped in horror at this last statement); to become instrumental in the deaths of all your friends, before the Black Rabbit of Inle comes for you as well." Fiver looked on the verge of tears as their captors smirked cruelly at him and Pipkin.

"It is time we gave you some privacy, to give you a chance to think things over. If you decide to pledge your loyalty to me and aid me in the capture of the rest of your friends, your lives may be spared. If not, you will be the first victims of my conquest." Robbins pointed at the large missile standing above their heads.

"You have exactly until the sun is directly overhead to make up your minds; that is when the launch is due. We will return shortly before that time so you may tell us your decision. For your sake, I suggest you choose wisely, otherwise you will be the first rabbits to be launched into orbit." Without another word, they turned and left, leaving the two prisoners to their misery.

Fiver looked miserably skywards towards the sun's disk that was slowly appearing over the edge of the shaft. "Frith, help us!" he muttered, tears flowing down his face, feeling more miserable than he ever felt in his life. The memory of the look on Vilthuril's face, as if bidding him goodbye, before she had been annihilated, kept flashing in his mind over and over, tormenting him. The hours slowly ticked by, as the two friends waited to be rescued or killed or to hear the news that their friends had been killed trying to save them…

No sooner had Woundwort, Robbins and Vervain left the cavern where their two prisoners were being held, when they met a very living Captain Campion, who had supposedly been killed during the raid in the outsiders' hideout last night! Vervain instantly froze in terror, fearing the General's wrath as well as Campion's, who wasted no time in informing his Chief that he had deliberately left him behind at the mercy of the outsiders; only by warning them that if he were harmed, their friends would be killed in retaliation, had he been released, to take back their terms. Woundwort was furious.

"You dare abandon your own Captain of Owsla, to protect yourself? Cowardice in the face of the enemy? You shall be punished for this insolence!"

Soon, Vervain had his newly promoted Owsla captaincy revoked and ordered to stand guard at the entrance to the launch bay, under the threat that if he let the prisoners escape, he would be killed. Vervain, terrified of the task, took up his new duty, hoping that whatever plan Robbins had come up with would finish off all the outsiders, without leaving him to deal with them himself. He shuddered at the thought of his nemesis showing up here; he knew he stood no chance against that ithe and if he tried to back away now, he would be sentenced to death for treason and desertion. After a lifetime of cunning, to suit his own interests, this time he had taken one step too many.

Meanwhile, Robbins, finding himself temporarily relieved of duty due to Campion's return, decided it was time to set his own plans in motion. Although he was forbidden to leave the warren unescorted, having become Woundwort's favourite, he was allowed free reign of the warren itself and, with the exception of Woundwort and a handful of the highest ranking Owsla and Owslafa officers, everyone else had orders to obey him. This advantage played right into the second phase of his plan; to make his escape unnoticed, leaving Alan and his friends, as well as Woundwort, to be wiped out by Project Black Inferno. And this meant a final meeting with his old nemesis; in order for his plan to go like clockwork, he had to ensure that a confrontation between his maniac master and his alleged enemy was inevitable.

Making sure he wasn't being followed, he made his way to an underground watering hole used to sustain the slave population, without being forced to let them venture above ground too long, which would encourage escapes. Unbeknownst to Woundwort, Robbins had a further advantage on his side; since Efrafa was built amidst the ruins of Red Hand's old headquarters, he knew every knot and cranny around, including the layout of the old mine which now served as the main body of the warren. He alone also knew of another route, through the watering hole, which had once been another tunnel before being flooded long ago by the new river surrounding the island. That route led through a forgotten region of the mine, and joined the secret tunnel he and his associates had used to break into the manor last night. His plan was to use that tunnel and make it back to the Cessna and escape in the confusion.

Making his way down the run that led to the chamber of the underground watering hole, he met Corporal Bugloss, who was standing guard duty; like everything else in Efrafa, taking a drink was also closely monitored and controlled. Robbins cleared his throat, catching Bugloss's attention, "Good afternoon sir, what brings you here?"

"The General wishes to see you promptly; it seems Campion showed up alive and delivered the outsiders' terms to us." Although only a half-lie, it was enough to persuade Bugloss, who was young and inexperienced, as well as fearful of the harsh Efrafan discipline, to take Robbins' word, "What about my post, sir? It is forbidden to leave your post without replacement…"

"I will manage your post until you return; Woundwort's orders. Now, you better get moving; I don't think you should keep the General waiting." Bugloss turned and headed up the run but didn't get very far; as soon as the buck's back was turned, Robbins drew his concealed revolver which had been fitted with a silencer as not to draw unwanted attention and, grabbing Bugloss by the mouth to muffle his shouts, shot him square in the spine; the silent bullet penetrated the spinal column as well as his heart and, in an instant, the buck lay dead at Robbins' feet. Quickly glancing back up the passage to ensure nobody had seen him, he dragged Bugloss to the water's edge and tossed him into the water. The corpse sunk into the murky water, covering up all evidence of the murder.

Quickly going over his arsenal, including his revolver, which only had three rounds left, a single grenade left over from the destruction of the Honeycomb, and a flashlight, he took the plunge himself. Swimming along the flooded passage, he soon made it to the other side, where he found himself at a crossroad; following his mental guide, he took the route that joined the secret passage back to the manor, where he could set the next phase of his plan in action.

After descending down through the secret trapdoor, Alan's group found themselves in a dark tunnel, built right underneath the manor's foundations. Rusted steel girders and crumbling concrete pillars supported the walls and ceiling, displaying signs of corrosion as a result of rainwater that had leaked down through cracks in the ceiling. The whole place was infested with mould and mildew. A set of rusted wagon tracks run along the floor, down the passage. In an instant, he understood what it was.

_Of course!_ he thought as they made their way in, _This is the entrance to an old mine; many of these stripped coal and tin mines are found scattered in places throughout England. Red Hand must have bought this one, so they could use these tunnels as a hideout for their work, without fear of discovery. Clever._

They set off down the dark tunnel, illuminating their way with their flaming torches, "Everyone, keep your wits about you, your ears stretched and your eyes peeled. There might be a reception awaiting our arrival at the other end; we must be ready to greet them first." Bigwig sighed in exasperation.

"Have you forgotten that I am _captain of Owsla_? Do you think I don't know how to preserve the element of surprise in the face of the enemy? You've got hraka for brains if you think I haven't done this sort of thing before!" he growled, looking rather irritated at Alan being in charge rather of him. Hazel cleared his throat, "Ease up, Bigwig. He is only trying to keep us safe."

"Speaking of trouble, shouldn't we expect to run into some anytime now? You know, a guard, a booby trap or an ambush maybe? Unless those Efrafans are total idiots, I don't think this is going to be a stroll in the park," McEwen muttered, his eyes taking every detail into account, from the undisturbed cobwebs that covered the concrete-slab enforced walls to the black cockroaches crawling across the filthy floor. Bluebell, despite the seriousness of their situation, hadn't lost his humour as he found the moment perfect to crack another joke to lighten the mood.

"Well, this is what we came for, isn't?" he asked sarcastically, "Adventure, excitement, danger… Oh Frith, my nose tickles; the Black Rabbit is coming! Run for your lives!" he chanted in a mock-like tone of fear, pretending to be on the verge of fainting. Alan and some of the others couldn't help but snort at the joke, despite the seriousness of the situation; only Hazel, worried sick about Fiver, wasn't in the mood for comedy as he gave the jester buck a stern glare, "We can live without the sarcasm Bluebell! Shut up!"

Bluebell looked slightly hurt at Hazel's sternness, but Alan stepped in, "Ease up Hazel, he meant nothing by it; and a little humour can't hurt us, even at a time like this." Bluebell smiled at Alan and even Hazel seemed to regret his rather harsh outburst, as he gave Bluebell an apologetic look.

They continued on down the tunnel, which zigzagged in many directions, without encountering any surprises; the passage was quiet as a grave and kept becoming steeper and narrower, leading downwards all the time, until Alan felt certain they were nearing the depths of the canyon surrounding the island. They could already smell the humid, mouldy air and feel the dampness on the walls increasing with their every step. Then the tunnel levelled out, as they came to some sort of underground cavern.

They stepped out of the passage into the circular cavern with a domed ceiling supported by decaying steel girders. Several passages, including the one they had just come through, trailed out of the cavern, in different directions underground. Standing against the opposite wall was a massive rusting generator barely recognisable from age; several power cables trailed away from the machine, running along the support girders overhead and down each passage, indicating the place had once been artificially lit. A massive fuel tank, which once fed the generator, stood beside the decaying machine, also coated in rust. A couple of old wagons, once used to transport ore, stood parked on the edge of the tracks, which followed the passages throughout the mine.

An assortment of tools and mechanical components lay scattered around, as well as some armoured military-style cases, which probably once housed key components for the satellite. The sight of all this junk confirmed Alan's suspicions that the mine had indeed once served as Red Hand's secret workshop for the construction of Black Inferno. A further search yielded a more interesting surprise.

Lying stretched out on the floor beside the generator were the skeletal remains of a man; all the flesh had long since rotted away or eaten by rodents, with only the bare bones and a few remnants of clothing remaining. A gold ring with an all-too-familiar crest on the index finger of the left hand caught Alan's attention; a skeletal hand held in a stop gesture, the crest of the Red Hand Brotherhood. They had found the remains of Sven Shertok, the last remaining member of the Red Hand Brotherhood, whose greed and ambition had eventually proven to be his downfall. Apparently, he had met the same grim fate as Dr Drake; he had been betrayed and killed by his ally after his usefulness had expired.

"Looks like our friend Mr Shertok got his comeuppance after all; a fitting end for that snake," McEwen muttered in grim satisfaction. Alan nodded in agreement, "Damn, looks like that psychopath Hemlock showed just as much mercy to his followers as he did to his enemies. Typical dictator," he said, picking up a mouldy backpack, which lay beside the skeleton. Perhaps there was a working weapon or something else that they could use to save their friends?

Inside, he found some personal effects of Sven, including some mouldy clothes, a rotted gas mask, a couple of loaded, yet rusted revolvers and a broken watch, all totally useless. Then he fished out a sealed aluminium canister bearing a chemical hazard sign and a chemical formula of some sort of chloroform solution; it was an incapacitating agent, probably leftover from Sven's terrorist career. Apparently, realising Hemlock had turned on him, had tried to escape Efrafa through the secret tunnel, only to be caught by Hemlock on the way.

For an instant Alan was temped to try and use the chloroform to gas the warren, so they could bust their friends out without a struggle, but then realised it was too small a quantity, much less to be used against an army currently _above ground_ in the open air.

"Hey fellas, check this out," McEwen called from the other side of the cavern, staring at some of the piles of junk. Hurrying up to him, they saw he had found a weapon's arsenal big enough to supply a small army. There were rifles, machineguns, revolves, and other light artillery along with plenty of ammunition; they had found the missing weapons, stolen from the HAB's armoury. It seemed that after Sven had brought them here for safekeeping, giving his new master the upper hand over Drake and his people.

For a moment Alan felt that they had just found a God-sent asset and was filled with fantasies of storming Efrafa by force, mowing down Woundwort's Owsla with these weapons, before realising they were all ruined by rust and dust; in direct contrast to the HAB, the unfriendly environment of the mine couldn't halt the effects of time. Then, he suddenly became aware that someone else had been helping himself to the arsenal; looking inside an armoured case that once housed grenades, he noticed that it had been opened and stripped of all its contents, very recently too, judging by the great difference in corrosion between the outer and inner lining of the box. In an instant, he realised what it meant.

"Robbins has already been here; he must taken these grenades for his own use. Bloody hell, things have just gotten a whole lot worse. Not only does he have the entire Efrafan army on his side and a doomsday weapon, but now he also has a supply of grenades to use against us! Just what we need…"

"Shhh! Quiet! Someone's coming!" Bigwig growled, staring at a passage at the far end of the chamber. Everybody quietened down and listened; sure enough, they heard soft footsteps approaching through the darkness, "Everybody, get in position; when they step in here, we strike them hard and fast."

They crowded on either side of the tunnel entrance, preparing a surprise counter-attack; they could hear the intruder getting closer. Then a familiar rabbit emerged from the darkness and collapsed before them. They all gasped in shock at the sight of the battered, and badly bleeding rabbit. "Frith of Inle, it's Hawkbit!" gasped Hazel as they all gathered around their wounded companion. Although he didn't seem to have suffered any serious injuries, it was apparent that Hawkbit had experienced a terrible ordeal getting here.

"Hawkbit! Can you hear me?" Alan called, gently slapping the semiconscious rabbit on the cheeks to revive him, "What are you doing here? What happened?" Hawkbit slowly opened his eyes, muttering gibberish.

"Efrafans attacked the Down…Robbins still alive…warren destroyed…all dead." Then he passed out again from shock and exhaustion. The Watership Owsla looked at each other in horror; if the Efrafans had seized their warren, then they had nowhere to flee. Even if they could somehow stop Project Black Inferno, they couldn't save their home; it was a win-win situation for Woundwort. Then, with a twinge of fear, Alan remembered Derek and the does. If they returned to the warren, they would probably run foul of a whole army of Efrafans. He had to warn them!

Grabbing his radio, he turned the volume and signal range up to maximum, and called out, "Derek, can you hear me? The Efrafans are on Watership Down! Keep away! I repeat, keep away... Derek!" But there was no answer. He felt a sore lump in his stomach, realising that Derek's party hadn't made it either.

"Can't you warn the others?" Silver asked, watching Alan continue to fiddle with the radio but to no avail. The man shook his head sadly, "No, they are not answering; they are probably dead too," he muttered, turning to his remaining companions.

"Then there is no help coming for us anymore; we are completely on our own now," Holly said grimly, looking horribly depressed for Clover's death; although he had only known her for a few days, he had found true love in that doe and hoped to mate with her, a dream that had just been shattered. Bluebell was curled up against the wall, looking more miserable than ever from the realisation of Violet's death.

At that moment the flame of Alan's torch begun to dim and finally went out as the fuel was used up; McEwen's followed not a moment later. Alan tossed away the useless stick and lit his flashlight along with McEwen, penetrating the darkness and revealing the depressed faces of their companions.

"So what in Frith's name do we do now? Any ideas, anybody?" Hazel asked, feeling at a total loss. First his brother had been taken hostage and now the news of the destruction of their warren and their friends' deaths had him on the verge of desperation. However Alan, in spite of all the grief that was literally tearing his heart apart, just like everyone else's, was fuelled with determination to see them through this, one way or another. He turned to his devastated companions who were all staring at him as if for guidance, "We have no choice but to continue with what we came here to do. We have to stop the launch and kill Robbins and Woundwort. We have to face facts here; the tables have been turned. Either _we_ kill them first or we die; there is no compromise anymore."

"He is right. It would be pointless to attempt an escape now; as long as those two maniacs live, they will just keep hunting us down and killing us all, one by one. And by the sound of it, that won't be long coming, not with Project Black Inferno. Only with their deaths can we hope to reclaim our lives… what's left anyway," Bigwig added, a vengeful look in his eyes.

"Then let's keep moving. At least we still have Campion in the right place, so we have an advantage on our side. If we strike hard and fast, there is a slim chance of salvaging something out of this mess," McEwen said, brandishing his pistol.

"But even if we can somehow stop the launch and free the hostages, there is still Woundwort and his Owsla to consider. They will keep coming after us, even if Campion manages to distract them long enough for us to escape. Not to mention,there is no way to escape from this place, or anywhere to flee to anymore," Holly exclaimed.

"Well then, let's just admit that we aren't meant to survive and make a courageous last stand," Bigwig snarled fearlessly, "At least our sacrifice might rid our world from that madrabbit's evil ambitions…"

"Wait a minute," Alan said, suddenly realising something, "Hawkbit made it all the way here, apparently undetected. How did he do it?" He turned to ask Hawkbit, but saw he was still unconscious. He turned and looked down the narrow tunnel from where he had emerged. Perhaps there was an alternate escape route at the end of this passage?

"I am going to follow this passage to see where it leads to. The rest of you wait here and stay alert," he said as he headed off into the darkness. Bigwig's voice stopped him, "Not so fast. You are not going anywhere alone. We all stick together from now on; I want nobody out of each other's sight, not for a blink."

"All right, you, me, Hazel and Blackberry will go and check it out. The rest of you stay here and look after Hawkbit. And remember, stay alert so no one sneaks up on us. Let's go." They headed off down the passage, following Hawkbit's trail backwards. This tunnel was narrow with a steep vertical incline, leading straight into the depths of the canyon. Then they suddenly saw it; stepping out of the dim passage, they found themselves onto the shore of a small rocky cove at the foot of the cliffs on the bottom of the canyon. The river flew before them with a ferocious current, making any possibility of escape by swimming highly unlikely.

"Alan, come and look at this!" Blackberry called out, "It's that thing of yours we used to cross the river back at Sandleford." Sure enough, tangled among the weeds at the water's edge, was the deflated Cessna's liferaft that they had lost during the crossing on the Enborne River. Hawkbit's pawprints were visible in the mud beside it, leading towards the tunnel they had just come through. Alan instantly felt his hopes of finding an alternate way of escape shatter, at the sight of the wrecked dinghy. But there was no time to dwell on that now, as they encountered an even greater shock.

Lying inside the flattened dinghy was Dandelion's bloodied body, who had succumbed to his injuries on the way here, forcing Hawkbit to leave him. Alan frowned as he examined the wounds on the body, "I've seen these kind of injuries before; definitely the result of an explosion at close range, probably one of those grenades. Damn, that sick bastard really means business…"

Finding nothing else of interest, the downcast group turned and headed back to the generator room. They saw McEwen tending to Hawkbit, using some antiseptic pads from his medical kit, which he had cramped into his pockets before they had set off down the secret tunnel, for just such an occasion, "How is he doing?"

"Quite well, considering he just came through a shower of grenades. He'll be fine." Alan nodded, feeling some slight relief at Hawkbit's recovery.

"Found any alternate escape route?" Holly asked. Alan shook his head, "No, dead end; we have a river with a furious current between us and escape." While the others took care of Hawkbit, Alan started walking around in circles, his hands in his pockets, with no idea of how to tackle the situation they had landed themselves in; without a plan of retreat, attempting to infiltrate Efrafa would be guaranteed suicide. Suddenly, as he walked past the ancient generator, he had an epiphany. Wiping dirt away from the ancient fuel pressure gauge, he saw it read near-full capacity. Remembering how Sven had finished off the HAB colonists, he suddenly came up with an idea. Although the generator itself was useless, its remaining _fuel_ could be useful for something else…

After Hazel and Bigwig had called everyone to order, Alan addressed the crowd, "All right, everyone listen up! You can forget our initial plan; as of this moment, we are improvising a new mission. As you know, our situation is desperate; we are completely on our own and with no means of escape. However, there is still a possibility, a very remote one, that we may pull this off. This generator still has a full tank and is situated in the perfect spot for a booby trap; if we can somehow lure Woundwort and his army down here into this cavern, we could set the whole place ablaze and finish them off…"

"You mean, get them to chase us down here and spring a fire trap as they come through after us? Brilliant! Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get to it! That crack-brained slave driver and his thugs have postponed their long-awaited appointment with the Black Rabbit of Inle long enough," Bigwig interrupted, fully supportive of Alan's plan. Hazel however, looked hesitant.

"My brother, Pipkin and Vilthuril are still held in there somewhere. We can't risk them getting hurt on our account; Campion warned us that they will kill them if we attempt to retaliate," he said, giving Alan a warning look. The man nodded reassuringly.

"Don't worry, I've got it all worked out. Woundwort currently has his army stationed around the boundaries, waiting for us to come to surrender, which means fewer guards inside Efrafa. If we move swiftly and silently, we should be able to sneak into Efrafa using Shertok's route and free our friends unnoticed. If worse comes to worse, Campion did stress how Woundwort wants me alive so, if need be, I could surrender to them in exchange…" Alan's alternative was met with instant gasps and protests.

"Over my dead body are you turning yourself over to him, in hope of trading your life for Fiver and Pipkin! You can be sure Woundwort won't keep his end of the bargain; he'd probably just kill them anyway or use them to force you into doing more of his dirty bidding," Bigwig growled, giving Alan a firm look, "And that is if they aren't dead already…"

"Bigwig's right, how do we even know they are still alive? I say we accept the fact that they are lost to the enemy and focus on figuring out how to get out of here!" The others gasped in outrage at Hawkbit's selfish retort. Hazel rounded to Hawkbit, his fur bristling in anger, "I am warning you Hawkbit; if you ever speak of my brother like that again, you will be one very sorry rabbit!" Hawkbit's ears drooped, realising he had stepped out of line. "I…I am sorry Hazel-rah. I am just scared from what happened back at the Honeycomb. By Frith, those Efrafans actually laughed as they killed our friends..." This seemed to ease Hazel up a bit, yet he still kept his face into a frown. Alan went on speaking.

"We are _not_ abandoning our friends and we are not bargaining with Woundwort either. No, there is another way: as I was saying, if we succeed in freeing Pipkin and the others, we can then run like hell back this way, luring the Efrafan Owsla down here, to their doom. Also, if we can get word to Campion to get the does and slaves to help us, we should be able to overthrow the few remaining guards stationed in the warren. With Woundwort and his Owsla destroyed, escaping from here won't matter; we can always take our time and find some other way off this island. Build a bridge or a raft maybe… "

"And what about Project Black Inferno and Robbins? How do we tackle that side of the problem?" McEwen asked sharply but Alan held up a hand to quiet him down, "I am coming to that. Knowing Robbins, he probably intends to desert Woundwort and leave us all to the missile, so that means he will be focusing on the right moment to slip away, so we needn't worry about him…for now. We can deal with him later, after we've dealt with Woundwort first. Perhaps Woundwort will kill him first and save us the trouble. As for Project Black Inferno, according to Derek, all we need to do is to hit the override and confiscate the arming key; without it, the device is useless." However, the others still looked doubtful at Alan's plan.

"That's one hell of a gamble over mere guesswork!" McEwen retorted sharply, "What if something doesn't go according to plan? You do realise that if even one loyal Efrafan slips away and alerts the Owsla before we are finished, we've had it! Not to mention, if Campion is discovered, we'll have no outside help to depend on and in that case, we'd be lucky toescapeat all, let alone defeat Woundwort!"

"McEwen's right," Blackberry put in, "Even with a limited guard at the warren, any new recruits, not expecting our arrival, will hold us up. Perhaps it would be wiser to focus on escape now that we still can and return later with reinforcements?" The others seemed to strongly consider Blackberry's suggestion, but Silver shook his head.

"Reinforcements? From _where_? Watership Down is gone, Sandleford is gone, and I don't think Cowslip or his savage human breeders will be of any help to us." Bigwig sighed in agreement, "He is right; even if we could find a friendly warren somewhere far away, we would never be able to attempt this escapade again; Woundwort will know what to expect and change tactics."

Either way, we still need to go in there to destroy the missile or we all die," Alan said, "There's no choice really. Campion said 'until the sun is highest in the sky', so that gives us…approximately 40 minutes before the launch. We haven't got much time," he said, checking his watch.

"All right, then let's get on with it and trust in Frith," Bigwig said. Suddenly, Bluebell, who had wondered off to inspect the projecting passages, came running, "Buckos, come here! I think I found an escape route for us!"

They followed Bluebell down another of the mine tunnels that hadn't been filled in, until they came to a fork; the left turn continued on downhill, probably deeper into the mine, whilst the right turn was a vertical incline formed by years of mudslides, leading up through an opening in the tunnel ceiling. Sure enough, they could see rays of sunlight penetrating through the thick vegetation obstructing the hole; several sets of familiar footprints leading downwards, testified to the route Robbins, Campion, Vervain and Chervil had used to break into their hideout.

Although it seemed to be of little significance given that it didn't lead _inside_ Efrafa, but just outside the boundaries, Alan didn't take long to realise what Bluebell had meant; pocking his head out, he saw the hole came out close to the fallen tree that formed the only bridge off the island, just like Silverweed had said he had come. Excluding half a dozen burly guards standing guard nearby, the path was open to them in every respect; they had found an escape route, giving them a great advantage.

Quickly ducking, to avoid being spotted, Alan crawled back down the slope to his companions, "Bluebell, you are a bloody genius, you know that?" he said, praising the jester buck, as he explained what they had found, "So now we have a sound plan to follow; if we can only find a passage into Efrafa, then we can lead a whole group of escapees to safety, right under Woundwort's ugly nose! With a bit of luck, we might even be able to avoid any encounter altogether! Bigwig, do you think we can overpower those four guards up there, without starting a commotion?"

"A bunch of sloppy Efrafan oafs?" Bigwig asked scornfully, "If they are like the ones that attacked us back at the Honeycomb, we can take down hrair of those idle-brained lumps without breathing hard!" Holly however, had doubts.

"The Efrafans already know about this passage; I am sure it is only a matter of time before they realise our delay in surrendering and anticipate our move. What if we come back here and find a whole regiment waiting to intercept us?"

"That's a chance we've got to take, if we are to pull this off," Alan said, not bothering to hide the fact that Holly had a point, "All right, we'll call it to vote; how many would prefer to turn back?" However, none of the Watershipers, including Hawkbit, dared back off, their loyalty to their friends and comrades overriding their fear. McEwen raised an eyebrow, "I guess we're all in this together then." At than moment, Silver returned from inspecting the left passageway, to determine if it led into Efrafa, looking utterly disappointed.

"It looks like this is the end of the passage; it's just another dead end down that way." Hurrying down the tunnel, they saw the tunnel ended at a wall of bricks. Faded letters painted on the wall spelled:

'DANGER; UNSTABLE SECTION

KEEP OUT!'

Although not a cave-in, which would have been impossible to penetrate, the wall was still very solid and blocking their only way forward. But Alan wasn't giving up yet.

"Major, get out the powder horn; a small charge is all that's needed to blast this obstacle to bits. We'll be through in no time." But McEwen placed a firm hand on Alan's shoulder, "You mean, sacrifice our ammunition? These flintlock pistols are the only firearms we have left! If we encounter a squad unarmed, we're doomed! Besides, don't you think using explosives in a mine on the verge of collapse, is a tad bit risky?"

"If you've got any better suggestions, I'll be happy to hear them now," Alan replied as he poured some of the gunpowder on the ground, forming a three-foot long fuse; the powder horn with the remaining gunpowder was cramped into a small hole formed into the crumbling mortar between the bricks. Striking a match, he set the fuse ablaze; the powder instantly sparked and flared up. Motioning to the others to get back, they got clear just before the powder horn detonated; the wall disintegrated, revealing the entrance to a narrow, cobweb-infested tunnel leading deeper into the mine. Lighting their flashlights and brandishing their pistols (which now had only two rounds left apiece), Alan led the way.

It soon became obvious that Red Hand had sealed up that passage for a good reason; in contrast to the rest of the mine, this section hadn't been reinforced with concrete, making the ancient walls extremely fragile and vulnerable to vibrations. Cracks run along the walls and ceiling, which was supported by only a few decaying wooden beams, giving the impression that the place could cave in with the faintest disturbance. Alan felt his brow sweat, "Bloody hell, this entire section of the island is hollow like a giant termite mould, waiting to collapse!" They continued down the passage towards the heart of the enemy warren.

The tunnel seemed to take them even deeper underground, down to the water level of the river. Soon they found themselves walking through semi-flooded tunnels, which had been swamped from the river running behind the walls; the passage looked dump and slimy, but without any traces of vegetation due to the complete absence of sunlight. Noiselessly, they followed the passage, expecting some unpleasant surprise to be lurking in every shadow, around every corner. Hawkbit in particular, seemed to be regretting his decision to keep going with every passing minute.

"This is crazy! What happens if we find the Owsla waiting at the end of this tunnel? We're all going to get killed!" he groaned, losing his courage with every step. Although still fit enough to tag along, his injuries from the attack on the Honeycomb had taken their toll on him, making him limp and pant as they walked along. Hazel turned to him, "We have no choice but to trust Campion to make it as easy for us as possible."

At that moment they finally reached the end of the passage; not another dead end, but another fork, leading into two opposite directions. One the left, the tunnel formed a vertical incline, down into a pitch-black passage, flooded with what appeared to be rainwater that had leaked down from the ceiling or from the river behind the surrounding walls. On the right, another passage led towards a dimly lit chamber that had a strong and highly unpleasant odour of rot and decay coming from it, yet they could see a trace of light coming from there, indicating a possible exit.

"So, which way do we take? Left or right?" asked Holly, staring at each passage in turn. Alan looked at the flooded passage and then at the opposite tunnel, which looked more accessible. "That way," he said leading the way with his flashlight, which's current was beginning to weaken; the batteries were flat and would die pretty soon. As they reached the entrance to another cavern and peered inside, the most horrific sight any of them had ever seen before in their lives, met their eyes.

The chamber beyond was, what appeared to be, some sort of mass burial pit, where the bodies of executed prisoners were dumped. But it wasn't that which horrified the group; all the victims had not only been brutally slaughtered, but their corpses had been _feasted_ upon before the remains were dumped down here to rot. A large pile of gnawed rabbit skeletons, including bucks, does and kittens, mostly runts or invalids, formed a ghastly sight. Just above the mess was the opening of a vertical shaft in the centre of the ceiling, from where the bodies were dropped. Among them, Alan also noticed several _human_ bones, possibly the remains of the missing balloonists, which had apparently been captured by Woundwort's Owsla, brought here and killed. A large number of maggots crawled all over the pile, decomposing the gruesome remains. They all turned away, about to be sick.

"So this is the fate of prisoners in Efrafa: they are slaughtered and _eaten_! Woundwort has reduced himself to the lowest form of life: _cannibalism_! Those who are unfit for the Owsla or the slave squads, as well as those sentenced to death for various 'crimes' are used as _food_ instead!" Alan cried out, a burning lump of horror and hatred blossoming inside him.

"That should also explain why Woundwort's domain has never been found before; the legend of the elil-rabbit is true!" Holly muttered, also looking as if he were about to be sick. Although they had suspected that Woundwort had been killing off any trespassers that ventured into his territory, to keep his warren invisible, the fact that he was also using them as his food supply had been completely unthinkable!

"But how could that bastard sink so low? I have seen my fair share of violent elil that kill others of their own kind over a scrap of flayrah, but they would never _eat_ each other!" Bigwig growled, looking appalled at the thought of it.

"So we are not only dealing with savage brutes, but with _cannibals_ that would have our bodies for silflay once they have killed us. Well, I'll give them something to eat when I get my paws on them!" Holly snarled menacingly, outraged at this discovery. The others also looked furious and appalled.

"Holly is right. That brute _must_ be destroyed or, Frith knows how many hrair more innocents will die!" Silver shouted, outraged and utterly disgusted at the sight of the decaying remains of the unfortunate rabbits that had crossed paths with Woundwort, "He has no right to live."

"Do you think Fiver and the others are in here somewhere? Perhaps we are too late?" Bluebell muttered, looking horrified. Hazel instantly froze in shock upon hearing this; the thought of finding his brother's skeletal remains had chilled him to the bones. Alan however shook his head, "I don't think so; if they were going to kill them they would have done it already. Campion said they intend to keep them alive long enough to force us into surrendering or otherwise use them as leverage, should we attempt to resist..."

"I say that's an understatement," interrupted a cold, sinister voice from behind them. They all spun round and saw Robbins standing there, a cruel smirk on his face and his revolver clutched firmly in his hand. Alan cursed; it looked as if their plan had just been ruined, before they'd even gotten started. Although they too were armed, there was no chance of drawing their pistols with Robbins holding them at gunpoint. Now he would probably take them back to Woundwort, covering himself in more unearned glory and also sealing their doom, all in one go. Sure enough, Robbins, looking as pleased as if he had won the jackpot, sneered maliciously, "I have to give you credit for finding this passage; I had hoped you would try and sneak into Efrafa this way…so you can help me fulfil the final phase of my plan!"

"_Help_ you?" Alan spat in disgust, "Fallen out of Woundwort's favour, have you Robbins? You became his lackey and now he turns on you? Decided to switch sides because it's in your best interests? From what black hole in Hell did you come back to life anyway?" he asked hatefully, glaring at the murderer of his family. Robbins's sneer vanished and was replaced with an angry glare, "From the claws of that flying monster, in which you left me to die! You shouldn't have done that; you and your friends are going to regret it!"

"If you think you've won, you're very much eluded," Alan snarled hatefully, "Derek and the others have escaped and are expected to return shortly with bombs to blow this place, along with your precious toy, to hell!" To his greatest disappointment, Robbins only laughed cruelly, "_You_'re the one who's eluded Johnson; nobody is coming back for you. The balloon exploded as soon as they were airborne. I saw to that myself, just like I did with your warren." Alan felt his insides turn to ice, realising that Derek and the others were indeed all dead. Intense hatred boiled up inside him, "I am going to rip out your spine, you miserable son of a…"

"What you're going to do," Robbins interrupted, "is follow my instructions to the letter if you want the remainder of your furball friends to stay alive; I've got a little job for you lot. Now, everybody stick together and follow me; and anyone who steps out of line will get a bullet before he knows it!"

With Robbins still holding them at gunpoint so nobody would attempt to escape, they followed him back down the passage to the fork; their captor stepped into the tunnel leading towards the escape route they had come through and motioned them towards the flooded passage, as if ordering them to step into the water. Hazel stared back at him, "What do you want with us?"

"What I want, _Your Majesty_," Robbins replied, mocking Hazel's title, "is for you lot to keep Woundwort preoccupied while I make my escape undisturbed. My deepest gratitude to you all; I wouldn't have been able to pull this scheme off without your help. And thank you for unsealing the tunnel for me; only now I must seal it up again, to ensure none of you ruin my plans," he laughed, taking out the grenade. Unfortunately, for a second time, Robbins' arrogance had led to his loss of vigilance, giving his captives a chance to retaliate. Not missing the opportunity, Alan and McEwen suddenly drew their flintlock pistols and pointed them at Robbins, "You didn't think we'd come on this suicide ride unprepared, did you?" Although Robbins was momentarily stunned at the sight of the guns, his smug smile returned as he realised they were antiques, possibly duds.

"Do you think you can fool me with a couple of useless museum props?" he chuckled evilly, "I am not stupid like that oaf Woundwort and his gang of cretins…" This time Alan couldn't surpass a laugh, "Here's some news for you, pal; these guns are loaded and just as deadly as they were originally designed to be. And if you don't put down that grenade right now, I am going to put a bullet right between your eyes!" However, although he seemed to lose some of his coolness, Robbins didn't seem too keen to risk being outsmarted by a 'decoy' as he replied, "I'll risk it." Alan cocked the hammer.

"Final warning Robbins: we will not hesitate to shoot you dead right here. Unless you want us to give you a little demonstration of our firepower, I suggest you hand over the grenade right now!" Robbins only sneered, "Demonstration, huh? Fine then, you're on!" He reached out to pull the pin out of the grenade.

Without hesitation, Alan pulled the trigger, sending a marble straight through Robbins' left arm; the man screamed in agony, dropping his revolver and clutching his injured arm; the marble had penetrated the limb just below the elbow, which had started oozing out blood. Alan felt a sense of deep satisfaction, seeing the murderer of his family in pain, "Did that hurt, Robbins? How does it feel to have the tables turned on you for a change?" However, Robbins, determined to fulfil his plan, suddenly pulled the pin out with his teeth; before he could toss the grenade however, McEwen suddenly lunged forward, grabbing Robbins' wrist. Only the safety spoon pinned flat by Robbins' shaking fingers kept the grenade from detonating.

Not waiting for Robbins to regain the upper hand, Bluebell and Blackberry, who were closest, also pitched in; the others struggled to help, but the tunnel was too narrow, making it impossible for all of them to circle around Robbins and pin him down. Alan, who had discarded his empty pistol and picked up Robbins' fallen revolver, was trying to get a clear shot of the enemy, "Major, hold him still…! Blackberry, move your head out of the way…! Bluebell, duck…!" But in the chaos, there were too many of his friends in his line of fire, making it impossible to shoot without hitting someone else in the process, "Damn!"

Suddenly, a faint hissing noise was heard; in the struggle, the grenade had slipped out of Robbins' hand and rolled away under a nearby pillar, about to detonate. Panicking, Alan yelled, "Everybody, run for your lives! Into the water!" He could see Robbins still struggling with Blackberry, each trying to get to their feet and run. The words had barely left his lips when the grenade exploded, the blast hitting them all full force and sending them into the flooded passage that led into Efrafa. Alan had a second to see the tunnel behind them collapse from the disturbance, before he swam along the passage, struggling to get clear of all the falling debris.

On the other side of the now collapsed passage, in the generator room, Robbins, bruised and battered, emerged from the cave-in, chocking and splattering. The instant he had felt the grenade slip from his fingers, he had fought tooth and nail to shake off his attackers and run for it. With one of those rabbits still clinging to his back, as if determined to drag them both to their deaths, he had barely managed to get clear of the range of the blast, just before the tunnel had started collapsing; for an instant, he thought he was doomed, feeling the weight of earth and boulders pile down on him. Then the cave-in had stopped and he was able to dig himself out of the debris, finding himself on the far side of the tunnel, with the escape passage right ahead; he had made it!

Turning, he saw the bloodied body of Blackberry lying unmoving amidst the debris. When the brave buck had desperately being trying to prevent Robbins from escaping again, he had found himself clutched onto the man's shoulders when the tunnel roof had come crashing down on them. This had ironically shielded Robbins from the jabbed rocks while Blackberry, who had been in a vulnerable position, had taken the deadly blow instead. He now lay dead on the edge of the passage, while Robbins, injured, yet very much alive, got to his feet and, casting one last sneer at the rabbit that had ironically saved his life, hurried up the escape passage, intent on finding a good position to watch the launch of Project Black Inferno, before making his escape in the Cessna.

Meanwhile, inside Efrafa, just outside the launch bay where Fiver and Pipkin were being held, Vervain felt the faint vibration of the grenade explosion deep within the warren; he felt an instant sense of glee and hope blossom inside him. Had Robbins' plan succeeded? Was that troublesome human finally dead? Then, remembering that Robbins was supposed to be resting in his burrow, he realised something was wrong. He was dying to go and investigate, yet feared Woundwort's wrath if the prisoners escaped in his absence.

Staring at the entrance to the launch bay, which was sealed by the Owsla with a massive boulder, his curiosity overpowered; those two weakling runts would never be able to shift it aside and there was no other way out. Finally, deciding to take the risk, he turned and headed down towards the officers' quarters to investigate the commotion. If that human, who had become his master's favourite, shunning him in the process, intended to double-cross the General for his own selfish ends, then _he_ would be the one to catch him in the act and turn him in. If Frith was smiling on him today, then perhaps he would have his captaincy reinstated soon and be Woundwort's most prized servant once again.

Author's note: Another Chapter is up! Coming up next, the confrontation with Woundwort! Who will win? It actually took me weeks to write this part of the story, since every little event will be important for the final outcome, which won't be, as it seems… Enjoy and please review!


	27. Chapter 27 The Dominant Creature

On the other end of the flooded passage, a few seconds after the grenade had detonated, six figures resurfaced: Alan, Hazel, Bigwig, Holly, Hawkbit and Silver. Battered, bleeding and exhausted, they crawled up onto the ledge at the water's edge to rest. They had reached the underground watering hole where the Efrafans got their drinking water. Although they had finally penetrated the warren, to their greatest dismay, couldn't turn back anymore.

Alan suddenly became aware that his vision was blurred; his glasses had been lost in the explosion. He cursed; without his glasses, his aim would be sloppy and they only had one gun left to fight with. Then, he realised that McEwen, Blackberry and Bluebell had not emerged from the water. He felt his heart sink; how many more of them would die on this insane escapade he had dragged them into?

At that moment, McEwen resurfaced, dragging Bluebell under his arm. There was no sign of Blackberry, who had been killed in the explosion, when the tunnel collapsed. They hurryingly pulled the unconscious buck out of the water and laid him down. Bluebell's eyes were vacant, his battered body stiff and motionless; he was dead, having drowned after being knocked unconscious from the force of the explosion.

"Oh no Bluebell, please, not you too!" The two men desperately tried CPR to revive Bluebell, but to no avail. Alan felt his insides freeze, remembering Mallow's cruel words when he had fought him back at the Honeycomb: _"We will kill your friends with you forced to watch and powerless to help"_. Hazel, somehow managing to maintain his calmness, placed a comforting paw on Alan's shoulder, "There is nothing you can do for him Alan; you did your best." But Alan only looked up at Hazel with hurt eyes.

"I've failed you. I brought you here to help you find recruits and instead I am getting you all killed, one by one. How many more victims must I have on my consciousness? How many more lives must be lost because of me?" Seeing that Alan was about to lose it, Bigwig pinned him to the floor to face him, so they were almost nose-to-nose.

"Alan, if you don't quit talking hraka this instant, I swear, I will pummel the living daylights out of you until you get this straight: what is happening to us…_is_…_not_…_your_…_fault_! This is war and on the battlefield your worst enemy is discouragement because of the death of a comrade. If you refuse to continue fighting, then you are letting the rest of your comrades down as well. If you feel that you are responsible then you do whatever it takes to _avenge_ them, not back up, hoping the enemy will leave your friends alone. That is exactly what Woundwort is trying to do; force us to submit to his will by crushing our courage. Do you understand?" the mighty veteran growled staring at Alan straight in the eyes, without blinking, "But Bigwig, I…"

"But nothing! We still have a score to settle with those damned Efrafans. The deaths of our friends will be avenged with equal ruthlessness. Now, on your feet soldier!" Alan slowly stood, struggling to get a grip on himself and think straight, "Major, what is left of the gear?"

They examined their arsenal and saw much of it had been lost in the struggle, in addition to their two fatalities. The flintlock pistols were gone as well as all the gunpowder; all that remained was Alan's knife and Robbins' revolver, which only had three shots left, and their flashlights. The situation couldn't have gotten any worse; they were now trapped in an enemy warren, outnumbered, and with practically nothing to defend themselves with. With the secret tunnel gone, their initial plan of retreat was useless. Although they still had the element of surprise, it was of little consequence given the superior strength of the enemy. This time Robbins, although a victim of his own folly, had technically won. Alan glared in the direction of the collapsed passage underwater, where his nemesis apparently now lay entombed along with poor Blackberry…

At that moment they heard a faint squeal coming from around a corner; silently motioning to the others to remain silent, Bigwig suddenly sprang round the corner and next second they heard a cry of fear and the sound of Bigwig's angry growling. Running up, they found him pinning a cowering Vervain to the floor by the throat. The sadistic rabbit had followed Robbins' trail to the watering hole, only to encounter the outsiders instead. Vervain seemed to be turning blue from suffocation, his eyes wide and fearful, "You…?"

"Yes, us," replied Bigwig grimly, "So, come to see how many of us are still alive, have you Vervain? I daresay I will most certainly enjoy clawing your eyes out to prove my point!" he growled as he raised a paw to strike Vervain over the head (or most likely, decapitate him). Alan, however, stopped him, "Save that for later; we might need him alive." He turned to Vervain, "Your life is on sale Vervain; the price is our friends. Where are they?" Seeing himself outnumbered and fearing for his life, Vervain spilled the beans.

"In…in the chamber, where the weapon is. I…they are left unguarded. Please, just let me go. I…I told you everything I know. You don't have any further use for me," Vervain pleaded, trembling so violently, one would think he was been electrocuted. Alan raised an eyebrow, "So you can alert the Owsla of our presence? Not a chance. If you want to save your skin, you are going to lead us to our friends straight away. And you better hope that we don't encounter any surprises on the way, for you are going to be our shield." Vervain gulped, "What? No!"

"What's the matter, Vervain? You don't trust your master's goons not to sacrifice you? Then maybe you should have made a better choice of friends," Hazel replied coldly. Alan hoisted up the terrified rabbit by the ears and placed him in front of him, holding him tight against his chest with one hand, and brandishing Robbins' revolver in his other hand. They marched up the tunnel into a wide burrow.

Noiselessly, they walked down a long tunnel that run the length the slaves' burrows, through the depths of Efrafa. Compared to Sandleford, Cowslip's warren and the Honeycomb, this was the gloomiest, most depressing warren Alan had seen in this future world. There was no other way to put it; it was just sinister. Limited elbowroom, no light and hardly any breathable air, which had the smell of rot, death, disease and even blood, like a medieval dungeon.

As they moved along, they caught glimpses of the miserable population of Efrafa, confined to their cramped burrows, looking malnourished, sickly and depressed. They could hear faint moans and coughs, indicating that the rabbits here were all in dangerously poor health, as a result of so many prisoners living close together as well as their poor food and lack of exercise. As a sickly-looking doe caught sight of them but said nothing, Alan managed to get a glimpse of her face. It was hollow and shrunk, with traces of foaming around the lips. With sickening realisation, Alan understood that the warren was on the verge of disease; undoubtedly the Owsla, Owslafa and the Chief Rabbit had the best of everything, while the lower classes were only kept on the brink of survival, much like the surplus population of a tyrannical society.

As they approached the end of the passage, they spotted a guard standing at attention with his back turned to them. While Alan held Vervain's mouth firmly shut with his hand, McEwen crept up behind him, quietly picking up a jabbed stone. Swiftly and noiselessly, he walloped the unaware guard hard over the head with the stone, who instantly sunk to the ground without a sound. McEwen was about to duct-tape him up, but Holly who had placed his ear over the guard's mouth to check his breathing, shook his head, "Forget it. You hit him too hard; he is dead."

Alan stared down at the dead guard and recognised him as Chervil, the Efrafan officer who took in great pleasure in parading Blackavar around the warren as a warning to other attempted escapees. Quickly, they moved the body in a deserted run, which had probably once housed Hyzenthlay and her friends, and out of sight. They moved on through the warren, encountering no more guards; as Alan had anticipated, with the Owsla stationed outside waiting for them to surrender, the warren was almost entirely deprived of guards. Following Vervain's directions, they finally came to an opening, which led into another chamber, with sunlight coming in from the other side. Heaving aside the massive boulder blocking the entrance aside, the seven remaining survivors of the Watership Down Owsla entered.

They found themselves at the bottom of a deep, circular shaft, possibly the long disused entrance to the mine. The stone walls were coated in fresh dirt and so was the ground, indicating that the hole had been recently unearthed. The top was completely open to the sky, from where cranes were once lowered down to retrieve the ore. Only now, a tall weatherworn rocket launcher stood erect in the centre; they were staring at a fully assembled Project Black Inferno, which was on a countdown for launch. Hazel however, was staring at the spot beneath the rocket outlet; despite his now blurred vision, Alan could also see the two small figures lying bound and tethered beneath the jet outlet, staring back at them with relief. They had found Fiver and Pipkin.

Realising he couldn't rush to his friends' aid and continue restraining Vervain, he did the first thing that came to mind. Reaching up, he pinched hard on the vagus nerve at the base of the rabbit's neck; Vervain groaned in pain and blacked out, as Mr Spock's famous Vulcan sleeper hold took effect.

Tossing Vervain's unconscious form aside, he rushed over to the overjoyed Fiver and Pipkin. Using his knife, he quickly freed the two rabbits from their binds, gasping in horror and outrage as he noticed the bruising on their paws. He could hear angry murmuring behind him as the rest of the Owsla saw the brutality that their friends had been subjected to by the enemy. Praying that the binds hadn't been tight enough to cause necrosis or damage the blood vessels, he carefully examined the wounds and was relieved to see that there was blood still pumping through the veins. The cuts looked ugly and painful, but luckily not deep.

"Does it hurt Fiver?" he asked his friend as he gently tended to the rabbit's wounds, using the end of his wrist cuff to clean up the wounds. The seer rabbit nodded, trembling slightly, "No…not so much now. Thank you." Then he realised Vilthuril was missing.

"Fiver, where is Vilthuril? Where did they take her?" The young rabbit looked at Alan with such a painful expression, the man realised something terrible must have happened.

"Alan, they…" Fiver mumbled until he mastered the courage to explain, "Woundwort came, accompanied by Robbins. He threw something at her, some sort of large black acorn and it… it destroyed her!" he whimpered, pointing at the bloody mess a short distance away. He broke down sobbing, as Hazel held his brother close, trying to comfort him. Pipkin nuzzled close to Alan's torso as if seeking protection, as the man gently held him close offering his dwarf friend whatever little comfort he could. Fiver's ears suddenly perked up.

"Alan, you shouldn't have come here; Woundwort intends to lure you here and capture you alive. Robbins said none of us would be shown mercy anyway…" But Alan shook his head, "We know Fiver; as it stands, we are the only ones left alive now. Derek, the does, and everyone else back at the warren have been killed. Woundwort and Robbins have been playing a cat-and-mouse game with us from the start; we foolishly played right into their hands…" Suddenly, Holly shouted, "Vervain's gone!" They turned and saw that, in the confusion, their hostage had regained consciousness and slipped away. Alan felt his insides twist up in anticipation.

"We have to get out of here now! Come on!" Knowing they only had about a minute before Vervain alerted the entire Owsla to their presence, they turned round to flee, but McEwen called a halt, "Wait guys, the missile! We still have to disarm this bastard!" Alan turned to stare at the threatening satellite, feeling desperate; if they stayed behind and attempt to disarm it, it would inevitably result in their capture, or even their deaths. But letting it launch would spell out their doom anyway. He turned to the others, "Bigwig, get the others out of here, fast! I will stay behind and see if I can disarm it. McEwen, take the gun and go with them; you need you more than I do here. Hurry!"

"Like hell are we going to leave you behind!" McEwen snapped. But before anyone else could argue however, they heard the distant shouts of the approaching Owsla; Vervain's squeaky voice was distinct among them, "It's the outsiders; they're inside the warren! We have them!" Hazel turned to Alan, "Whatever you're going to do, you better do it now!" Alan turned back to the missile; how was he supposed to climb up to the control module? Glancing at the catwalk that run over the rim of the shaft, he saw, to his utmost dismay, it had been destroyed, undoubtedly by Robbins, to prevent anyone from attempting to disarm it. The missile was completely vertical and smooth, with no way of climbing up. Bigwig suddenly raised an ear.

"Quiet!" he growled softly, "We've got company." They all stood up and listened carefully. Sure enough, they could hear footsteps approaching and hushed voices talking outside. Soon, the shadows of Efrafan soldiers appeared at the tunnel entrance. Although they obviously hadn't expected them to turn up _inside_ the warren, thanks to their utter stupidity of leaving Vervain unguarded, they now had them cornered. Bigwig, Holly and Silver stood in a fighting stance, "Everybody, get ready; we'll pick them off one by one as they come through that narrow opening."

The remaining Watershipers braced for, what would probably be, a desperate last stand. Picking up some branches and weeds that had fallen down the shaft, he sharpened one of their ends into points and tied some buds of weeds and dry grass to the other, improvising a couple of makeshift torches and spears, all in one. Handling McEwen one, he hastily pulled out his matchbox and lit the torches.

No sooner were the torches ablaze, than the entire Efrafan army stormed in. In an instant they were caught in the midst of a furious battlefield as the Efrafans fell upon them like hungry elil going for the kill. Alan stabbed one, whom he recognised as Charlock, straight in the face with the sharp end of his spear, killing him instantly. McEwen dodged a blow by Bartsia, before walloping his opponent in the face with the burning end of his torch; Bartsia screamed in agony as he received a ball of fire directly in the eyes. Although pleased to see that the Efrafans hesitate at the sight of the flaming torches, they still outnumbered them greatly, making their chances of winning incredibly slim.

Bigwig was engaged in a furious fight with Coltsfoot and Moneywort; fearlessly, he fell upon them, fighting them both simultaneously. Hawkbit was caught into a furious fight with Vervain, the evil rabbit having joined in the fight in hopes of finding some distracted opponent to backstab and then claim the glory. Silver had taken on Thunder, both rabbits fighting each other furiously. Alan could also see Holly, Hazel, Fiver and even Pipkin, each taking on separate opponents. Unfortunately, in spite of their progress, Alan could also see many more troopers pouring into the cavern as they continued taking down one rabbit after another and, to make matters worse, their torches were quickly diminishing. As he set another opponent on fire, the flame of his torch dimmed and went out; the bud of dry weeds had been used up.

"How's your torch Major?" Alan yelled as he stabbed Thorn through the neck with the sharp end, killing him. "It's gone out Professor; we are history." Desperate for some way to get them out of this tight corner they were stuck in, he drew Robbins' revolver and fired at his nearest opponent, killing him instantly. The Efrafan Owsla momentarily froze, terrified by this lethal alien power; one found the courage to attack, only to find himself in the path of another bullet. The remaining Owsla, convinced that the gun had unlimited power, against which they were helpless, turned and fled. Seeing the coast temporarily clear, Alan called to the others, "Everybody make for the exit! We'll regroup there. Go!" They run as fast as their legs could carry them, through the midst of confused Efrafan soldiers, out of the launch bay, desperately looking for a way out.

But as they finally managed to find their way to the exit, they found it blocked by a heavy guard, expecting them. Within seconds, they were once again caught again into a furious fight, this time by a much larger squad and with nothing left to fight with. Alan furiously punched rabbit after rabbit, trying to clear a path for them to escape, while desperately using his remaining matches to keep them at bay. Although the small flame did cause some of them to back away due to their natural fear of fire, it wasn't good enough to make them retreat and he was too preoccupied to try and fashion another torch. He could hear the roars and shouts of his companions as they too, were desperately fighting for their lives.

Just as Alan was about to collapse in exhaustion, a heavy Efrafan snuck up behind him and struck him hard over the head. Stars flashed before his eyes and then everything swam, before he crumpled to the ground unconscious…

After what seemed like an eternity, Alan opened his eyes. His entire body felt bruised and sore, from all the blows the Efrafans had inflicted upon him. Shaking, he got to his feet, finding himself in an unfamiliar, dimly lit chamber. Through the twilight, he could see a gaping well-like hole in the centre of the chamber with a familiar stench of death and rot coming from its depths; it was the opening that led down to the burial chamber, where the remains of Woundwort's victims lay. There was no sigh of any of his companions.

Finding himself alone and unguarded, he tried to spot a way out when suddenly, the coldest, most sinister voice he had ever heard in his life, sounded from behind him, "Welcome to my domain, time traveller." Despite the semi-darkness and his distorted eyesight, Alan saw a sight that sent a chill down his spine. At the far end of the chamber was a massive boulder that formed some sort of throne-like platform; and atop that platform stood none other that General Woundwort himself.

Woundwort was the ugliest, most horrific-looking rabbit Alan had ever seen in his life. Nearly the size of a grizzly bear, with pointed front teeth, which almost resembled fangs, this creature had a glaring red eye in one socket with another milk-white one in the other. The evil, hate and power radiating from this monster was beyond imagination. Woundwort's sinister appearance alone was enough to scare a whole crowd into submission; combined with his colossal size and strength, Alan felt like he was staring at an animal version of Satan himself.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Woundwort spoke again, "Come closer ithe, I don't bite." Although Alan was certain that statement was anything but true, he had no choice but to obey, hopefully to buy himself enough time to figure a way out of this Cautiously, he walked up to Woundwort who was staring at him directly in the eyes, completely unblinking. The ruler of Efrafa went on speaking in a surprisingly calm voice, "Do I surprise you?"

"A little, yes".

The ruler of Efrafa continued to stare at him with his gleaming red eye, while his dead milk-white one stared vacantly into space, "My family weren't always like this; after Frith destroyed your world and created ours, he gave us a challenge, to determine the new dominant creature of the new world. A long and cold winter fell upon our world, leaving our ancestors to freeze and starve. My forefather and his followers escaped here into this old man-burrow that eventually became our warren, while El-ahrairah's people chose to remain above ground and attempt to survive following their ancestors' skills."

"A long and cold winter you say? You mean like an Ice Age?" Alan asked, remembering Drake had mentioned in his log the possibility of an upcoming Ice Age due to the Earth's climate becoming destabilised after the impact of Pandora.

"Whatever your kind called it," replied Woundwort, "Although these tunnels kept us from freezing to death, it didn't solve our food problem. Soon my people were starving and it looked as if the Black Rabbit was coming for us…until my noble ancestor Hemlock, using the knowledge he had gained from your people, managed to find an alternate way to sustain us: we resorted to eat the bodies of El-ahrairah's people that had perished in the cold and we found, not only did it sustain us, but it also made us stronger and much longer-living than our fellow rabbits. My family evolved into the new dominant creatures that took up their rightful place as rulers. The secret to our strength remains a secret of my family, even from my Owsla and Owslafa. Only then does a ruler truly maintain his superiority…"

"You mean, not to follow in your footsteps and resort to cannibalism, to achieve superior size and life-span," spat Alan, looking appalled and disgusted. Woundwort frowned at him.

"Yes, it is my ancestor's secret that gives me the power and privileges as dominant creature of this world. El-ahrairah's people evolved into simple weaklings, similar to their predecessors, while my people gained superiority. The remainder of your kind degenerated into inferior creatures that continue to be one of the elil that hunt down El-ahrairah's descendants. I have never lost anyone to them, while your friends lose one of their numbers every day to those hideous creatures. Unless of course, they embrace the might of my domain…"

"So it _is_ you who is behind all these unexplained disappearances round here, right?" Alan asked coldly, staring at Woundwort with intense hatred. The savage rabbit smiled maliciously, "The only way to keep my domain concealed from enemies is to silence any outsiders that trespass into my territory. Efrafa is completely independent; we have no ambassadors or allies anywhere, except perhaps for that idiot Cowslip who occasionally serves my purpose. Any outsiders captured become a part of me; the able-bodied ones become slaves and some, who prove their loyalty to me, are drafted into the Owsla or Owslafa. Traitors as well as those unfit to fulfil their duties are used to supply the nourishment that grants me my superior health and strength; it's the closest a mortal can get to achieve immortality. A normal rabbit of my age would be barely standing while I still retain the bountiful energy of youth and will continue to do so for a long time to come."

"So it's not bad enough that your ancestor exploited and destroyed my people's legacy for his own gain, but now you resort to breed your own kind like _cattle_," Alan hissed, glaring at the Efrafan leader.

"That's the moral right of the superior being. I would have thought it was obvious to you; you belong to a race of creatures that once ruled the world in my place," said Woundwort, looking rather displeased at Alan's lack of agreement.

"Your own kind to be your slaves or your _food_?" gasped Alan, looking disgusted, "Well, we don't eat our fellow human beings, enemies or not!" Although clearly displeased with Alan's lack of support, the evil dictator continued his speech.

"In Efrafa, everyone plays a role in our society; the does are diggers and breeding vessels, while the bucks that display the best strength and loyalty to me are promoted to Owsla or Owslafa officers that form the inner circle of my forces, once they reach maturity. The rest only serve one useful purpose: to provide the nourishment that sustains me and gives me my superior size and physical strength. It is all part of what your kind would call an original ecosystem; the greatest accomplishment of my ancestor," Woundwort replied proudly. Alan however, only gave him a look of hatred and disgust.

"I don't understand how can just sit there, boasting so proudly about your…accomplishments? Don't you realise the moral cost of what it is you're doing?" Woundwort frowned dangerously at Alan's remarks, yet answered calmly.

"I am appalled at your lack of judgement as well as your nerve," the savage rabbit replied coldly, "You think I don't know how your kind dominated the world? Man hunted and killed other creatures for sport or used them as slaves and food. Man sought ways to master the powers of nature and reshape it at his own accord. Your kind brought death and destruction upon the world with all your knowledge and inventions, and yet you dare judge me for following my natural instincts to survive?"

"_Natural instincts_? Cannibalism is a sick perversion of every natural law!" Alan retorted. Woundwort, outraged at this outburst, struck Alan across the face, causing his lip to start bleeding, "And what do you call controlling nature, playing Frith at every turn? Your kind's pathetic attempts to control the world at your own disposal, to suit your own interests. I hear you intended to rebuilt your world to share with your friends. Brainwash them with your kind's vile ways…"

"A world with equal human-animal rights, not your kind of pervasive, hypocritical, tyrannical regime!" Alan snarled back, refusing to let Woundwort's harsh words get to him. The General glared at the professor, his face forming into a sneer, "You truly amaze me, time traveller. Your life is drawing to a close and you still refuse to accept defeat. By this time, most of my enemies are usually begging for mercy or coaxed into doing my bidding…"

"You can throw whatever taunt you have at me, but I am not giving you the satisfaction!" Alan replied coldly, giving the evil tyrant a fearless glare. Woundwort, realising his failure to force his prisoner into submitting to his will, abandoned his fake coolness and his features turned furious and hateful.

"That is precisely why the only way to eliminate the threat you pose, is to destroy you and everyone associated with you. Those outsiders that follow you will die, to remove the disastrous influence you have inflicted upon them. It makes my blood boil, to see a rabbit befriend and trust an appalling, dirty ithe like you. You destroyed their home warren and led so many of them to their deaths, yet those deluded fools still see you as one of them. Those traitors to our heritage deserve everything that's coming to them now…" As if on queue, a death cry was heard was above ground where the fight was still waging. Alan shuddered, wondering if it was one of his friends.

Seeing that the time for talk was nearly over, he furiously focused to keep Woundwort talking as long as possible, while carefully thinking up a plan of attack; he would need the element of surprise, if he were to reach his knife that was still concealed in its holster and fight his way out of here, before it was too late…

"At least they trust a human who appreciates and returns their friendship in kind, while you choose to bargain with a cold-blooded murderer, in hopes of enforcing your tyranny even further, you power-hungry, gullible, overgrown oaf…" Woundwort turned and stood face to face with Alan, the man gagging from Woundwort's putrid breath, the madrabbit's red eye glowing with fury at the insult.

"Silence! I will not be spoken to like that by a lowly ithe! How dare you!" Woundwort growled, clawing Alan across the face again, causing more blood to spill. Alan groaned in pain, blood dripping from his lip, but refused to flinch as he glared back at Woundwort.

"Letting Robbins use that weapon is insane, Woundwort. You call yourself the patriotic saviour of your kind, yet you want to use the power of your supposed greatest enemy _against_ your own kind. Do you really think Robbins really cares about your cause? That weapon of his won't guarantee you any power; it will only bring about your own demise! If you are the so-call patriot of your people, then you better help me stop it before it destroys your people!" Woundwort's eye flashed in anger, "And present you with an opportunity to live and challenge my authority again? You would have to kill me before I let your foul kind reclaim the dominance of the world!" The time for talk was over.

"Well, that's too bad. We shall have to settle this…"Alan clutched his hands into fists, "…the hard way!" Without waiting for a response, he suddenly brought both arms forward and delivered the strongest Thunder Cookie he could muster, straight into Woundwort's good eye. Caught by surprise, the ruler of Efrafa staggered backwards, howling in pain. Knowing he only had a second before the savage rabbit would be upon him, Alan drew his trusty knife out from its holster.

Now armed and ready to face his foe, Alan stood ready for his opponent. Woundwort, having regained his composure, furiously attacked Alan, with the wildness of an angry bull. As the savage rabbit struck, Alan swung the blade through the air, slashing Woundwort across the face; blood oozed out from a gaping wound. "That's for my friends," he hissed, slashing Woundwort again, this time on the shoulder, "And that's for Dr Drake. Don't you remember Drake? Hemlock blinded him and left him to die. Now, he's finally been avenged!" Woundwort, however wasn't about to give up so easily.

Growling furiously, he launched another attack on Alan, this time biting hard into his right forearm. Alan's sleeve turned a shade of bright red, as Woundwort sank his teeth into the muscle with the muscle power of a crocodile. The man yelled in pain and felt the knife slip from his fingers. Woundwort, having succeeded in disarming his opponent, gave the knife a sweep with his paw, sending it over the edge of the shaft that stood right beside them. The shaft!

Seeing his only chance, Alan, ignoring the stabbing pain in his injured arm, rammed Woundwort as hard as he could, trying to knock him over the edge of the deep shaft. Woundwort struggled; his colossal strength was quickly overpowering Alan's who, in his injured state, couldn't restrain him any more.

With a blow, Alan was instead knocked over the edge of the shaft, barely managing to hold onto the edge with one hand. Woundwort, laughing maliciously, towered over him, "Your time is over, you despicable, pitiful excuse for a creature. Farewell!"

But just as he was about to deliver the final blow that would send Alan plummeting to his death below, like a guardian angel sent from Heaven, a small figure suddenly flew across the chamber and pounced straight onto Woundwort's shoulders, viciously slashing and biting at the savage rabbit's neck. At this unexpected attack, Woundwort staggered, taking his mind off Alan for one second…

With his last ounce of strength, Alan grabbed hold of Woundwort's ears and pulled him over the edge, sending him plummeting to the bottom. The crunching sound of bones was heard, followed by a groan of pain, as Woundwort landed on the remains of his former victims. But that wasn't all. As Alan peered over his shoulder, down the shaft, he saw the blade of his knife, jabbed straight through Woundwort's torso. As he stared, Woundwort's eye finally stilled, his lifeless body lying motionless in the pit that was now his grave. It seemed that when the knife had fallen down there, it had landed in an upright position, wedged between the scattered bones; Woundwort had landed right on top of it, causing the sharp weapon to pierce him straight through the heart. He had in essence been killed by his own dead victims, those he had considered inferior.

Panting and moaning, Alan looked up and saw a shaken Pipkin standing above him, his forepaws stained with Woundwort's blood. Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig, Silver, Hawkbit and McEwen also stood behind him. In the background, Alan could hear the rest of the Efrafan population, now free from Woundwort's tyranny, fleeing for the exits to freedom, with the exception of Campion who joined his new friends, beaming. Holly was nowhere to be seen and Alan realised the elderly Owsla captain had died in battle.

"Are you all right, Alan?" Hazel asked caringly as they grabbed hold of Alan's arms, pulling him back up, where he sunk to the ground exhausted, "We thought that evil bastard had killed you. After you were overpowered, they dragged you away to Woundwort, leaving the Owsla to finish us off. It was only thanks to Campion's perfectly timed intervention of ordering the slaves to join in the struggle that saved the rest of us; unfortunately, it was already too late for Holly… But it doesn't matter. Woundwort and his army have been overthrown; it's over. You did it old chap!" Hazel said proudly as he and the other rabbits lovingly nuzzled him. Alan weakly sat up, cradling his injured arm, as he remembered, "No, it's not over. Robbins has activated the missile launcher. We've got to shut it down and fast!"

"How? We can't reach the controls," McEwen said, as he helped Alan to his feet, who replied, "Trust me, I've got an idea. Come on!" On Alan's request, Campion led them to the exit and they made for the excavation sight where the shaft with the missile stood, waiting to launch. Alan turned to McEwen.

"Major, I are counting on you now; I can't manage this with my blurred vision, but you still have good eyesight. I want you to fire a shot right onto that blinking red button on the outside of the casing. Derek said it triggers the emergency override mode. It's our only hope of stopping this thing." Nodding, the pilot raised Robbins' revolver and carefully took aim, intent on not missing the target. "I hope I can do it; this is the last bullet."

As Alan watched, praying that McEwen was a good shooter, he suddenly realised something was not right. Just below the missile was the pile of wreckage of the catwalk that Robbins had blown up, along with all the bodies of the Efrafan Owsla that had died in battle. But Alan still felt almost as if someone was watching them… It only took a second to register that there was danger lurking close by…

"Everybody, eyes open! I think something's…" Alan shouted, but it was too late. Suddenly, a stone flew from some nearby bushes, striking McEwen hard on the head just as he pulled the trigger. The impact sent the man staggering, while the bullet flew right past the missile, without hitting anything. McEwen crumpled to the ground, clutching his temple, which was bleeding grotesquely, soaking his clothes with blood. Shell-shocked, they all crowded around their latest fallen comrade, not even registering the retreating form of Robbins. The evil man, undoubtedly determined to make sure nobody would ruin his plans, had been watching the missile until the last possible second. McEwen spoke in an urgent, weakened voice, unlike his firm, content one.

"Don't waste your time on me. I am dead." Those words alone caused an icy lump to form in Alan's heart as he watched the brave pilot bleed to death, powerless to help him, "Don't talk Major. We'll find a way out of this. You'll be fine..."

"No…professor…Alan, listen…must find it…go back," he weakly took out of his pocket a set of keys and put them in Alan's trembling hand, "I took these…off of that scum back in the caverns. If…make it back…give this…to my family," he gasped, as he also passed Alan his silver RAF-crested lighter. As Alan continued trying to control the bleeding with his hands, McEwen's eyes became vacant and his breathing stopped. He was dead.

Alan and his remaining companions stood frozen at the sight of their companion's dead body. Suddenly, a roaring nose from the depths of the shaft diverted their attention; Project Black Inferno was launching. "Come on, run for it!" Alan shouted as the missile's jet ignited. "Wait, we have to stop it!" Hazel said desperately, looking at the vibrating missile in horror. Alan grabbed him by the shoulder, "It's too late for that now. Come on, or we all die!"

"Wait! What about all the others?" Campion cried, referring to the scattered Efrafans that were still below ground or roaming about the island that was about to be destroyed. "There is no more time! Run for your lives!" Bigwig and Hazel had to pull Campion with them and they all made a run for it, just as smoke and flames shot out of the missile jet outlet…

They run away from the warren as fast as they could, in the direction of Buxton Hall. After reaching a safe distance, they turned and saw the roaring missile soar into the sky, heading into orbit. The violent vibration caused the caverns to start caving in, as the island sunk into the drink. Trees, bushes, everything standing above ground were suddenly sucked into a gaping hole, as a large portion of the prison island sunk below the water, like Port Royal had done centuries ago.

Screams of panicking rabbits falling to their deaths could be heard everywhere, as the ground crumbled beneath them. The roaring water from the canyon followed immediately thereafter, filling up the area that was once land. After a few minutes everything had settled and there was only silence except for the distant sound of churning water, which was now infested with floating bodies and debris, occupying the space that, until a minute ago, had been the section of the island that once housed General Woundwort's domain.

Author's note: Woundwort and his legacy are finally destroyed! But the price was high; Boxwood, Haystack, Violet, Clover, Acorn, Nildrohain, Strawberry, Speedwell, Hyzelnthlay, Blackavar, Nelthilta, Thethuthinang, Silverweed, Derek, Buckthorn, Dandelion, Vilthuril, Blackberry, McEwan and all the Efrafans that perished during the destruction of the warren. And Project Black Inferno is launched and armed…the countdown to the end has started. However, don't give up hope, folks! This story still has a long way to go. Like Alan said: as long as they are still alive, they aren't defeated.


	28. Chapter 28 Countdown To The End

Alan and his few remaining companions stared down at the murky water where Woundwort, his army, and warren now lay entombed. Where there was land that stretched out for nearly two miles, now there was less than half a city block worth of land left to stand on, the rest of the island having disintegrated when the warren exploded. The drowned and mutilated bodies of Efrafans that had perished in the destruction bobbed up on the surface of the water just below the cliffs, where the warren had disappeared.

Despite having survived, Alan and his seven remaining companions felt anything but victorious. They had failed; all their hardships, their struggles and their efforts, had been for naught. Derek, McEwen, Dandelion, Blackberry, Holly, Speedwell, Acorn, Buckthorn, Strawberry, Nildrohein, Clover, Bluebell, Violet, Silverweed, Hyzenthley, Thethuthinang, Nelthilta, Vilthuril, Blackavar, had all died in vain. Although Woundwort had been defeated, Project Black Inferno had not been stopped; Robbins has carried out his threat and launched the doomsday weapon, which had annihilated Efrafa along with all of its inhabitants, except for Campion. Now, it was only a matter of hours before the satellite would settle into orbit and deploy its lethal burst of microwaves at the survivors. The end of this paradise world was imminent; everything would soon be lost to the 'wonders' of human science and technology, just like Woundwort had ironically foretold.

Alan looked down at McEwen's keys and lighter still clutched in his hands, which the pilot had given him just before he had died. That man had done so much for them and yet Alan had been unable to protect him from Robbins…_Robbins_! That bastard had taken away everything from him; his wife, his daughter, Derek, and so many of his newfound friends too. Everyone Alan had held dear in life had been stolen, ripped away from him by that bastard and soon his own life and those of his remaining friends would follow. He was so lost in his miserable thoughts, he didn't notice Hazel approach him.

"Alan, there is no point blaming yourself for our fate. What happened was beyond our control. You helped save my brother; you did what I asked of you. You've done well."

"Cheers Hazel," Alan replied grimly without looking at him, feeling more awful than he had since his family's deaths. His pain and regret only intensified when Bigwig, who seemed non-too accepting of the turnout, started pestering Alan for solutions.

"What can be done? Is there any way, any way at all?" the burly veteran asked over and over again. But Alan only shook his head, "I am sorry Bigwig, as Hazel said, the situation is beyond our control."

"How much time do we have before the end?" Campion asked. Alan considered for a moment, "Hard to tell…three, four hours tops. Unless of coarse, by a complete stroke of luck, the orbit malfunctions and the satellite re-enters the atmosphere and burns up before it can fire." Bigwig looked furious.

"Unacceptable! Remember what I said? You either keep fighting, or you let your friends down. Now, what can we do? Think!" Alan, getting extremely irritated, rounded on Bigwig, "When will you get it through your thick head, Bigwig? _It's impossible!_ The satellite is completely out of reach and we have no control over it. Even if we try hiding in some hole and wait for the danger to pass, we would only survive to see the world destroyed. So stop pestering me for false hope!" Bigwig, looking extremely scandalised, was about to retort when Hazel stopped him, "Bigwig, leave him alone. He's done enough for us already. Come, Silver has found a bit of flayrah here, to make you feel better." They retreated, leaving Alan alone with Pipkin who was snoozing on Alan's lap, as they sat under a tree, lazily stroking the tiny buck's head, feeling slightly more cheerful, as he offered his little friend whatever little comfort he had left to give.

An hour passed in silence, as the eight survivors sat around the remainder of the island, waiting for the storm to hit. As the devastation had taken out the log bridge too, they couldn't leave the island anyway, so they all just resigned themselves to dying and settled down waiting peacefully for the approaching hour of doom. Alan was amusing himself by holding McEwen's keys on one finger, while Pipkin playfully jiggled them with his paw. The professor smiled grimly, remembering how he used to play similar games with his daughter when she was a toddler. He kept wondering, when they would all be dead, would he reunite with his family in the afterlife? Perhaps death was indeed the healing of his mental wounds, when he, his family and perhaps, his rabbit friends too, would start some new endless life in Heaven?

As he stared lazily at the stunning beauty of the future world, another hour later, he suddenly noticed a familiar number stamped on the key ring tag. Bringing it closer to his eyes, he recognised it: 232-G, the identification number of the Cessna! But how could McEwen have had them, since they had left them onboard the plane, before departing from Sandleford? Then suddenly everything clicked together in his mind like a jigsaw puzzle: the appearance of the keys and the cryptic meaning of McEwen's last words. It was perfectly simple: he had meant for Alan to use the Cessna and try to return back to their own time and attempt the impossible:_ to change the future!_

McEwen must have snatched them off Robbins during the fight down in the mine, probably hoping to have a chance of seeing his family again. Now, in death, he had given a second chance to Alan and his friends. As it all became clear as day, Alan jumped up, cheering like a kid in a candy store. He was a new man, his hopes revived. Pipkin, who had been startled awake at Alan's sudden excitement, looked up at his human friend confused, "Alan, what is the matter? Why are you so excited?"

Alan, in his excitement, picked up the dwarf rabbit in a bear-like hug, nearly suffocating him, "Pipkin, it isn't over for us yet! Come on, I'll explain as we brief the others." Confused, Pipkin followed Alan as they run to get the others, who were striding miserably around the island waiting for the end. Once they were all gathered, Alan told them of his plan.

"You are suggesting that we find your…your flying hrududu, or whatever it is you call it, and journey back to your time and _prevent_ all this from happening? We change the course of history?" asked Campion, looking completely perplexed, "That's crazy talk."

"I have succeeded in travelling into the _future_, Campion. Why would travelling _backwards_ in time not be possible? Besides, it's our last hope; if we stay here, we die."

"Well then, what in Frith's name are we waiting for? On your feet everyone, before the storm puts us out of our misery!" Bigwig bellowed. They all split up, searching for the plane's hideout, hoping it hadn't been lost with the warren.

Meanwhile, Robbins was working furiously to hotwire the Cessna's engine, ignoring the stabbing pain in his injured arm. After narrowly escaping the collapsing warren, he had returned to the plane, preparing to leave, now that his job was complete. His pleasure had been short-lived however, when he discovered he had lost the ignition keys, and realised he was stranded. His injured arm had turned a shade of blue by now and hung uselessly in an improvised sling around his neck. Although he had bandaged the bullet wound, the damage was severe, with his arm limp below the elbow from nerve damage.

As he struggled to pull the lock out of the panel to reach the wires behind it to jump-start the engine, he heard voices approaching. Quickly, he slipped out of the plane and took cover nearby. Pretty soon, he saw Alan approaching, looking overjoyed at the sight of the aircraft, the ignition keys clutched in his hand. Seeing his chance, noiselessly, Robbins reached into his pocket and took out the bottle of strychnine and a syringe he had stolen from the group's equipment. Jabbing the needle into the seal, he filled the syringe to maximum capacity. Now armed with a lethal weapon, he waited till Alan was standing in a vulnerable position where he wouldn't be able to dodge a blow…

Snarling maniacally, Robbins suddenly sprang from the bushes, his good arm raised, about to stab Alan in the back with the deadly syringe. But it never found its intended target, when Fiver, sensing his friend about to be attacked unawares, appeared out of nowhere and flung himself in the path of the syringe. With a cry of pain, he felt the deadly needle stab him in the abdomen, sending a dose of lethal strychnine nitrate into his organ system.

"NO!" Alan spun round only to see Fiver drop to the ground half-dead and Robbins fleeing as fast as he could, cursing in rage at having missed his target. Horrified, Alan knelt to tend to Fiver but Hazel, who had followed Fiver along with some of the others, shouted, "Go after him!"

Leaving Fiver in Hazel's care, Alan, Bigwig and Campion pursued Robbins until they came to the edge of the cliff overlooking the canyon. Robbins, now unarmed, turned and saw Alan and the others closing in on him, looking ready to kill. Not wanting to show fear, he sneered at them, "So you finally got me cornered, Johnson. So what are you going to do now? You don't have the guts for cold-blooded murder like I do. You are weak and you are pathetic, just like all your friends and family you so needlessly dragged to their deaths…" Alan punched the man hard in the face, breaking his nose and sending him crumpling to the ground. He was just about to kick Robbins off the cliff to his death, when Campion placed a firm paw on Alan's shoulder.

"Don't shame your honour over this lying bit of filth. Let me inflict upon him the punishment that Woundwort warned him about, should he betray Efrafa," he said as he placed a paw over Robbins' windpipe, pinning his head to the ground. Campion then spoke in an icy voice, "You promised my Chief that your weapon would benefit Efrafa and instead you betrayed us and destroyed our warren. This is for all those innocent rabbits you killed for your own selfish gain!" Without another word, he extended the claws on his other paw and brought them down hard into Robbins' eye sockets.

The evil man screamed in agony, clutching his now grouched-out eyes. They all watched Robbins, blinded and in pain, trying to feel his way around. No one moved to help him, all of them pleased that the brute had finally been punished for his crimes against them. As they all turned to leave, Alan turned to look at Robbins for a final time, muttering in a cold voice at his nemesis, "This is more lenient than what you deserve, you bastard."

As they walked away, Alan heard a scream followed by a loud splash; Robbins had thrown himself off the cliff in suicide. They hurried back to the plane, where they saw a sobbing Hazel cradling Fiver against him. Although still alive, the young buck was now twitching, the poison quickly taking effect. Hazel weakly raised his head to look at Alan, "Help him, please."

Alan turned Fiver over so he could take a look at the wound caused by the needle. It was small with hardly any blood loss, but how much poison had been injected and what sort of poison had it been? Judging by the point of impact, most of the poison had gone into the stomach, so it was similar to poisoning by swallowing. His first thought was to try and induce vomiting to flush out the poison, but then remembered rabbits couldn't physically vomit (although he wasn't sure exactly how the physiology of the future lagomorphs worked anyway).

He picked up the battered syringe that Robbins had dropped in his retreat and examined it; the alkaline scent of the remaining crystalline liquid inside told him everything he needed to know. He was no expert in poisons or antidotes, but knew that strychnine poisoning caused painful spasms, eventually leading to death by exhaustion and suffocation. And he also knew, to his utmost dismay, that there was no known antidote. Then he realised that the needle had splintered on impact, consequently leaving the sharp end stuck inside the wound, all the way down to the stomach. He turned to look at Hazel.

"Listen, he's got a needle fragment jabbed into his abdomen. If we don't get it out fast, it will cause him internal injuries. I want you and Bigwig to hold him as still as you can, so I can remove it. Whatever you do, don't let him move, or I may cause him organ damage."

The others instantly obeyed and held Fiver as immobile as they could. After soaking his fingers in what little alcohol was left in his hip flask to kill the germs, Alan carefully tried to get a grip on the needle using his fingernails. Soon he was able to get a grip on the tip of the needle between his thumb and index finder. Pulling carefully, the broken needle slid out and he tossed it away. But it was of little consequence, since the poison still remained in Fiver's system and was acting fast.

"Isn't there something more we can do for him?" asked Bigwig, as they watched Fiver continue to moan in agony, the spasms getting worse by the minute. It wouldn't be much longer before the strychnine would enter its final cycle, when he wouldn't be able to breathe anymore, and in the meantime there was the threat from the orbiting satellite to think about. There was only one thing for it.

"We have to get this plane started and try to reverse the time travel process. Back in my time, we have treatments for such injuries and the chances of survival are fare. It is the only way we can hope to save him." Hurrying over to the Cessna, he turned on the master switch on the control panel to do a systems check, only to discover yet another problem.

"Fuel tank is nearly empty. What is this?" Instead of reading twelve gallons which remained after their arrival at Sandleford, now there were less than four gallons left, barely enough for one person to make a return journey. Robbins had already used the plane to fly himself, Vervain, and Mallow back to Efrafa, consequently using up most of the fuel reserves, except for that small amount he had carefully left aside for his intended escape. It was almost as if fate intended Alan to escape alone, leaving the last of his friends behind to die. He sunk to the ground, his renewed hopes shattered from that indicator reading.

"There isn't enough fuel left to get us out of here." Despite their ignorance of human terms, the rabbits got the gist of where their friend was getting at, as they all stared at the ground, ears drooped and all hope lost. Hazel was still cradling his dying brother against him, weeping softly. It soon started to rain, soaking the group, which, in their misery, couldn't be bothered to seek cover.

As Alan stared absent-mindedly at the falling rain droplets, wishing there were fuel, he suddenly remembered a possible fuel source: the generator they had seen down the mine had plenty of fuel for the plane. Quickly getting to his feet, he turned to his companions, "I have an idea. Hazel, you and Hawkbit stay with Fiver. Bigwig, Campion and Silver, you come with me. We have a job to do." Pausing for a minute to cover Fiver with his shredded shirt to keep him warm and also using his vest as a pillow, he led the three rabbits back to the manor, into the secret passage and down into the mine. As they neared the entrance to the generator room, they found the passage blocked by fallen debris. Alan sighed in exasperation, "All right, we start digging. Up to it!"

The four companions attacked the fallen debris with great energy and soon found that, luckily, the cave-in was small and the room beyond soon emerged from behind the rock fall. The wall at the far end where the passage that led into Efrafa had once been was gone, revealing the edge of a cliff with the churning water below, where the remains of Efrafa were now submerged. The generator was still there, covered in earth and stone fragments that had dropped from the ceiling during the devastation. Sven's skeleton as well as the bloodied body of Blackberry also lay beside it. Alan sighed, as the presence of the buck's body confirmed that their brave mystery solver indeed hadn't made it.

Picking up a large empty vat, he placed it beside the ancient generator, right beneath a fuel purge line that linked up to the tank. Using a stone, he managed the force the rusted valve cap counter-clockwise, causing the tank's contents to begin pouring out; Alan watched as the vat slowly filled up with yellow kerosene, his hopes rising along with his anxiety caused by the delay. How much time was left before the microwaves got to them? Just as he was nearly done, Silver suddenly shouted, "Alan! Behind you!"

The man spun round just in time to see a battered Vervain spring at him from one of the old wagons. The evil-eyed rabbit looked angrier than Alan had ever seen him before, all cowardice forgotten. In an instant, he was pinned to the floor, with Vervain furiously clawing at him like a rabid hyena. "This is all your fault, you troublesome ithe! My master, my warren, you took everything from me! You have ruined my life, but I am not giving you the satisfaction yet! You will be screaming for the Black Rabbit, long before I am through with you!" Before he could strike another blow however, Bigwig Campion and Silver were upon him, knocking the insane rabbit off of Alan.

"You cowardly, back-scratching, low-life bastard!" Bigwig growled, "Attacking an opponent from behind? Well my friend, you have crossed the lines for the last time…" But Vervain seemed to have snapped completely, beyond the point of being intimidated by a larger opponent.

"You haven't won yet you fools!" he screamed, an insane gleam in his eyes, "I am the heir of General Woundwort's legacy! I was the one closest to him, his most trusted servant, to whom he confined all his secrets. I will rebuilt his empire and rise as the new ruler!" Bigwig, tired of his wild ranting, knocked him down with one rough push.

"Woundwort is _gone_, you fool! And there is no one to blame but _yourself_; you brought Robbins to him!" he spat in disgust. Campion however, who felt more sympathetic towards his former comrade, despite everything Vervain had done, approached him and spoke softly, "Vervain, come with us. You can still honour Efrafa if you help us correct the mess we caused." But Vervain, seemingly humiliated at being pitied, suddenly sprang at Campion screaming, "Never, you traitor!"

Caught by surprise, Campion was knocked backwards, over the edge of the cliff, as Vervain send them both plummeting to their deaths on the rocks below. Alan and Bigwig stared over the edge in horror, but saw nothing other than some faint smears of blood on the rocks they had hit in their fall. Vervain was dead, but had succeeded in taking Campion with him in revenge. But there was no time to think about him now.

They turned back to the vat that was now filled with fuel. They had extracted nearly five gallons; just enough for the plane to attempt a return flight, fully loaded. As Alan bent down to pick it up, he spotted the unused canister of chloroform lying on the floor, close to Sven's body. Then he remembered something important: Strychnine caused severe muscle spasms, while chloroform caused anaesthesia, effectively _counteracting_ the effects; he had found a possible antidote for Fiver! Although it was risky, perhaps it would buy them some more time, until they could reach help. But would it still work after all these years? Maybe he'd end up _poisoning_ Fiver even more? Then again, he'd die anyway unless they tried something. _The strychnine still worked because it was sealed in an airtight container. This chloroform container is also sealed airtight and in the right environment. It's worth the risk_, he thought. He pocketed the canister and then, with Bigwig's help, lifted up the heavy vat of kerosene and they left.

They returned to the plane, where they found Hazel, still cradling Fiver, who was now moaning in agony, violent spasms visible all over his body and his mouth foaming; the poison was entering its final stage. Hazel was sobbing softly, muttering what seemed to be some sort of Lapine prayer.

"Where's Campion?" asked Hawkbit, noticing the Efrafan Owsla captain's absence. "He is dead. That sneak Vervain ambushed us down there and pushed him of a cliff," replied Silver sadly. Even Hawkbit didn't dare utter any of his sarcastic remarks at the news.

Alan put down the vat and cracked the seal on the bottle of chloroform. Taking out his handkerchief, he drenched it in the drug and brought it close to Fiver's nose, while using his other hand to clamp his friend's mouth shut, hoping to make the rabbit breath through his nose and inhale the anaesthetic.

"What in Frith's name are you trying to do?" Hazel cried, as he tried to shove Alan's hand away from his brother's mouth, thinking he was suffocating him. Alan pushed him back, "It's an antidote for that poison Robbins got him with. He has to inhale it, so it can work."

Soon, Fiver's body started to relax, the muscle spasms easing up. Soon, his breathing and heartbeat stabilised and he lay still in the wet grass, the rain dripping over his unconscious form. The ancient chloroform had still done its job; it had put him to sleep so the strychnine in his bloodstream couldn't generate any further spasms. If they could keep him anaesthetised until the poison wore off, then he had a fair chance of recovery.

"This should buy him enough time until we can reach help. Now we have to refuel the plane so we can get the hell out of here." Unscrewing the fuel cap on the wing, Alan lowered the plane's refuel hose into the vat; squeezing on the rubble bubble on the hose pump, he started pumping the kerosene into the tank. After a few minutes of hard work, the refuelling was complete. Now they had nearly nine gallons, just enough to carry four passengers on a return flight. Then came the question as to _who_ would go; there were seven of them, and the plane was only designed to take four.

"I guess we have to find a way to rig this thing so it can support more weight. Let's start stripping it of all non-essentials," Alan said, taking out a screwdriver and spanner he had salvaged from the mine. Carefully examining every inch of the aircraft, inside out, he started removing anything that wasn't vitally important, and passed it out to Bigwig and Hawkbit, who dragged the junk away.

Soon, the aft passenger seats, the fire extinguisher, the life jackets, the pilot's operating handbook and mechanic's log, the radio headsets (excluding one, which would be needed to operate the radio), all the upholstery foam insulation pads that lined the walls of the cabin, and whatever remained of their baggage, had been removed. With a hasty calculation, it was determined that they could now take an additional passenger aboard; six passengers in total including Pipkin, whose small weight didn't count as much. But unfortunately, they were still one place short and there was nothing else left to dump.

"We are doomed," Hawkbit groaned as the truth sunk in, "How did we land ourselves into this? What have we done to deserve such a grim fate? I could have thrown myself to some elil, or gone over a waterfall on a log, or found some other _decent_ way to die!"

"You can blame me Hawkbit," Alan replied grimly, "I landed you all into this mess, because of Robbins' hatred of me. For whatever it's worth, I am sorry from bringing this calamity upon you all." As he uttered those words, they noticed something on the eastern horizon. The storm clouds had suddenly split apart, as if some invisible force was eating away at them. Instantly, Alan realised what they were seeing.

"It's starting," he thought, "The satellite is generating its plasma bursts that are penetrating the atmosphere, like unfiltered solar winds. Any moment now, we're going to be incinerated by one of these blasts if we don't take off and fly out of the range of fire." As they stared at each other, he realised the only solution left, "It's as simple as that: one of us will have to stay behind."

"So one of us will have to die," muttered Bigwig. They all stared at each other, "How can we make such a difficult decision? Shall we draw straws or something?"

"Stay out of this Alan. You are the only one who can fly this thing, so you are excluded and everyone else is for that matter. _I_ will stay behind." They all stared at Bigwig, horrified at his words. The mighty veteran remained firm, "Yes, you heard me. It is a Captain of Owsla's duty to sacrifice himself for his comrades. This is mine."

"Now look here Bigwig, this is not the time for noble heroics. Let us randomly select who stays; let's give everyone a fair chance." Hazel suggested. Before Bigwig could protest however, Silver broke in.

"No, listen to me. Alan is needed to fly this contraption, Fiver is injured, Bigwig is the most capable fighter among us and too valuable to spare, you Hazel-rah are our chief and your brother needs you wherever it is you're going, and Pipkin is the smallest so his weight won't count as much. I am the heaviest and as an honorary soldier, I can be spared. _I_ will stay."

"You most certainly will not be staying, you great big dandy!" Bigwig hissed at him, "I am still your Captain of Owsla and this is a direct order: do your duty and look after the others after my demise." Hazel however, remembering his authority, remained firm.

"No Bigwig, as your Chief I still hold higher jurisdiction so I am giving the orders now: I want you to continue doing your job and protect everyone. Alan, I entrust Fiver into your care; for the past few days that I've known you, you have proven yourself a loyal and trustworthy friend and I want you to take my place as leader. I am staying behind, so you may all have a chance to survive. No one else needs to die."

"Hazel, sometimes you can be as irritating as Hawkbit, you duffer! By Frith of Inle, I said _I _am staying and that is final!" Bigwig growled furiously glaring at his Chief, until Pipkin suddenly cried out, "Hawkbit is gone!" They all spun round and saw that the grey rabbit had slipped away during the argument for an obvious reason: he was going to sacrifice himself for the rest of them to escape. Alan was just about to go after him, but Bigwig stopped him.

"No, you get ready for departure. Wait for us as long as you can risk it; if we don't come back, then leave without us." Without another word, he raced after Hawkbit. Alan turned back to the plane, thinking furiously of anything else he could dump, so they could include another passenger onboard.

Suddenly, as if God decided to be merciful for a change, an idea sprang to Alan's mind: Half the plane's instruments didn't work in this world and the plane could still fly without them. Quickly, he got to work unscrewing the GPS screen from the control panel; hastily throwing away the oil-drenched screws, he pulled out the screen from its slot and tossed it out to Pipkin, who dragged it away, followed by the navigation unit, the transponder, and several other non-essential instruments. Finally, he even resorted to removing the co-pilot's seat, leaving only the captain's seat for himself. Soon, the plane was literally stripped to a skeleton; although they were still overloaded and on limited fuel, at least they had lightened the plane enough to take off. "A little less flying time is a gamble worth taking," Alan thought in self-reassurance.

Quickly helping his remaining friends onboard, he noticed that Bigwig and Hawkbit had still not returned and meanwhile, the bursts of microwaves coming from the sky were getting closer. The sky on the eastern horizon was turning a shade of red, as the land in the distance was slowly being incinerated, acre by acre. Unable to bear the thought of leaving any more of his friends to die, he suddenly run away from the plane in the direction that Bigwig had gone, ignoring the shouts of Silver, Hazel and Pipkin, "Alan, no! Come back!"

Author's note: Robbins is finally dead! Before writing this chapter, I consulted a pilot about the scenario of a plane being able to fly after being stripped like that and he told me it could actually work. The scene with the group arguing over who would stay behind and Hawkbit's decision to sacrifice himself was inspired from a scene in _Destination Moon_ 1950 by George Pal. Enjoy and please review!


	29. Chapter 29 Escape into Time

Bigwig chased after Hawkbit, until they came to the edge of the cliff. As the mighty veteran closed in on him, the buck turned round facing the edge of the canyon, indicating a suicide gesture, just like Robbins had done. Bigwig froze.

"Don't come any closer Bigwig. I swear to Frith, I'll jump!" Hawkbit called out, in the most serious tone Bigwig had ever heard him use before, his usual sarcastic demeanour having vanished entirely. However, the mighty veteran stood his ground, "You damned tharn buck! I gave you a direct order, now stop being a fool and get back here! You are getting out of here with the others; _I_ am the one who is staying, not _you_!" But Hawkbit shook his head firmly, "No Bigwig, I've made my decision. You can't be spared, but I can. Now leave me and get going. I want to see that contraption actually _fly_. It will be a memory worth dying over, so I can share it with the rest of our friends in the Land Beyond Life."

"Not bloody likely! We are not leaving without you!" the mighty veteran snapped back, desperately trying to think of a way to get closer to Hawkbit without causing him to jump to his death.

"You've got to go, or you'll be letting me die for nothing," Hawkbit persisted, giving Bigwig a pleading look, not daring to take his eyes off his Captain of Owsla. At that moment Alan, with Silver in tow, caught up with them. "What in Frith's name are you two doing here?" growled Bigwig, "I told you to get ready to leave!" The man ignored him and turned to Hawkbit.

"Hawkbit, listen to me. You don't have to do this; I have found a way to get us _all_ out of here." Bigwig gave Alan a weird look, uncertain if this was only a bluff to drag Hawkbit back by force or if it was actually the truth. Hawkbit kept staring from one to the other, expecting someone to try and grab him when he wasn't looking, "What are you on about?"

"I said, I have found a way to rig the plane so it can take the weight of all of us. The escape is open for you too now. Now, come on!" But Hawkbit remained unconvinced, "How do I know that this isn't a bluff, so you take me and sacrifice someone else instead?" At this, Bigwig lost his patience, "By Frith, you are the biggest nuisance I have ever met in my life, Hawkbit! Now come along, or I have a good mind to…" Before he could finish his sentence however, the apocalypse was finally upon them.

The heavy rain suddenly stopped, like a shower sprayer being turned off. Staring overhead, they saw the clouds part, forming a rapidly growing circular patch of clear sky. As they stared at it, a burst of plasma penetrated it and descended upon them. "Everybody, cover your eyes!" Alan shouted, as the energy wave struck the ground, right on top of Silver, who couldn't dodge in time.

A scream followed and then a horrible smell of fried skin and burnt fur reached his nostrils; opening his eyes, he saw a large patch of scorched earth, with Silver's sizzling corpse lying in the middle of it. They all stared, transfixed with horror at their latest fallen comrade. Quickly regaining his composure, as another energy burst sent some nearby trees ablaze, Alan turned to his companions, "Run for it! Back to the plane!"

Bigwig, quickly recovering from the shock of Silver's gruesome death, turned to Hawkbit, only to see him crumpled to the ground, moaning in agony, "My eyes! It hurts! I can't see!" With sick dread, Alan realised Hawkbit hadn't been able to close his eyes in time, and had seen the blinding flash.

Not pausing to think, he swooped Hawkbit over his shoulder and then he and Bigwig bolted back towards the plane. They saw Hazel and Pipkin, who had disembarked, probably about to come after them as well, also staring at the devastation with expressions of absolute terror.

"We have to get out of here now, or we all die!" They placed the injured Hawkbit onboard beside Fiver and then Hazel and Pipkin pilled in, followed by Bigwig and Alan. Seating himself in Julio's seat and fastening his seatbelt, he fitted the ignition key into the lock, just as another burst of microwaves fell from the sky and struck the ruins of Buxton Hall; the ancient structure instantly burst into flame, explosions erupting from the interior, sending flaming debris flying out through the broken windows. More microwave bombardments followed in rapid succession, causing more fires to erupt all around them. A catastrophe of biblical proportions was unfolding before their eyes, incinerating the entire British Isles.

"Jesus, come on!" Alan hissed, as he turned the key and hit the ignition switch. The prop begun to spin mildly before grinding to a halt as the engine splattered; rainwater had leaked into the engine during the storm, choking it up. Resetting the ignition, he tried the starter again but got only the same result. Should he risk trying the ignition with the mixture off, to clean out the cylinders?

With them like sitting ducks for the microwaves, he pulled the mixture lever down and punched the throttle to full; hitting the ignition again, the engine gave a horrible grinding noise, followed by a deep splatter, as it spat out the moisture from the carburettor. The unpleasant smell of exhaust fumes filled the air, making Alan think for an instant, that he had fried the spark plugs.

Praying the microwaves wouldn't fall upon them just yet, he reset the ignition back to normal and hit the starter again; the prop began to turn lazily, looking as if the engine was about to stall again. But Alan kept his finger pressed down on the switch, until the engine suddenly roared to life. Within seconds, the pistons were racing, the prop spinning at a stable speed.

Wasting no time, he released the parking brake and pushed the throttle forward. The plane lazily begun to taxi forward through the thick undergrowth until it reached the grassy plain where Robbins had originally landed it. At the far end they could see the edge of the canyon with the trees ablaze on the other side, thick clouds of smoke rising up into the sky. He lined up on the edge of the runway and the plane begun to speed up as it run across the plain, towards the edge of the cliff. Their airspeed slowly increased; 20knots…40knots…60knots…

"Come on, up, up, up!" Alan hissed as he gently pulled back on the stick. He knew that if they were too heavy, the plane would stall and they would crash into the flaming trees and it would be the end. Just as they reached the edge of the cliffs, the airspeed indicator touched 85 knots and the undercarriage left the ground. The plane soared upwards, over the burning trees and into the air. They had barely made it.

Cowslip was sitting in his burrow, lazily munching a bunch of coltsfoot. After Woundwort and Robbins had visited him, demanding information on the hlessil's whereabouts, he had been left reassured that this group of troublemakers that had plotted to deceive him would be hunted down and destroyed. Even his traitorous associate, who had deserted him, would go down with them. Suddenly, his sick thoughts were interrupted as he noticed sunlight reappear outside. Thinking that the storm had passed, he stood and went outside, hoping to find more flayrah.

But the second he stepped outside, a horrible sight met his eyes. The land surrounding his warren was engulfed in flames; everything around him was being incinerated, like some invisible force from the sky was setting the earth ablaze. The screeches of terrified animals filled the air. As he stood transfixed at this horrible nightmare, another burst of microwaves from the satellite hit him; instantly, a horrible pain engulfed him, as his skin begun to sizzle, his fur burning up, and his eyeballs and blood begin to boil. His last thought, before his fried corpse crumpled to the ground, was, "What have we done to our world?"

Alan, Hazel, Bigwig, Pipkin, Fiver and Hawkbit flew over the region that was once the Meadows of Fenlo, heading west towards the former region of New Forest. Although the sweeping of the satellite had passed, the devastation left behind was colossal; below them was an endless land of smoking ashes that, a few hours ago had formed the stunning beauty of the future world. But it was all over now, destroyed by another of humanity's evil inventions. As they passed over Watership Down, they saw, to their greatest sorrow, that the warren had been reduced to a vast crater from the explosion that had destroyed the Honeycomb during the siege. Alan turned to look at his five remaining companions that were cramped with him in the small cabin. He saw Hawkbit was slowly blinking, his bloodshot eyes looking sore but luckily not burnt.

"How are you feeling now, Hawkbit?" he asked the grey-furred rabbit, as he waved his hand in front of his eyes, to test the buck's blindness. To his relief, Hawkbit appeared to see his hand, "I think so. Everything looks a bit blurred but it seems to be clearing." Alan sighed, relieved to see that Hawkbit wasn't maimed for life, "It's probably just a temporary flash blindness. You should recover soon enough." He noticed Hawkbit relax, relieved that he hadn't lost his eyesight, despite his still aching eyes. Bigwig turned to Alan, "So what happens now? Where are we going?"

"We are going to follow our original course backwards and let's hope that the warp, or whatever it's called, that brought me here is still there. If it is, we will try going through and hope it reverses the time travel process. If it does, we should be back in my own time very soon." He noticed Hazel trying to keep his still comatose brother comfortable, looking extremely miserable. In sympathy, Alan turned around in his seat and placed a comforting hand on his Chief's shoulder. "He will be alright, Hazel. I promise you, he'll be fine." Hazel slowly raised his head to stare at Alan, his eyes tearful, yet his expression of trust and faith didn't slip the man's gaze.

Suddenly, as they neared New Forest, the plane's electrical system begun to flicker; the familiar phenomenon of an unseen force 'sucking' electricity away was taking effect as they approached the boundaries of the time warp, which was invisible in broad daylight. Alan hastily tightened his seatbelt, his hands firmly clutched on the stick, as he turned the plane westward, "Here we go; everybody hang on as tight as you can!" At that moment, all power went, as the plane flew through the warp and disappeared from the 28th century.

The sun begun to spin rapidly through its quarters, forming a moving golden band against the twilight of the sky, as the plane flew through large portions of time. Alan could hear the gasps of his companions, as they watched the outside world change in the blink of an eye. But, to Alan's horror, they weren't going back in the 21st century as he had expected; instead, they were moving _deeper_ into the future, travelling through thousands of millennia per second.

Through the twilight, they watched time change the world outside at an alarming speed. The incinerated landscape sprang back to life, indicating that the devastation hadn't wiped out all traces of life. Vegetation thrived and disappeared over and over again, the continents shifted as the geology of the planet changed over time, eventually turning the British Isles into the surface of a new ocean, and even the constellations above them were slowly drifting apart. They watched more asteroid impacts and Ice Ages come and go as they travelled deeper and deeper into the future. Finally, their speed through time increased so much, Alan started to see the luminosity of the sun increase rapidly until it became too bright to observe, indicating that the Earth was being cooked, as their star entered the last stages of its main sequence. Then it started to dim, as the star finally entered its dying stages and began to shrink.

Just when he thought the ride would go on forever, their speed through time decreased as they reached the end of the time tunnel. As the flow of time begun to resynchronise with them, the world of the far future unfolded all around them. They had travelled a long distance forward through time, probably hundred millions of years, judging from the awful changes that had taken place.

The sun was no longer bright, but instead had grown to at least ten times its normal size and faded into a glowing red star that hovered above a dry, desolate wasteland that was now Earth, it's photosphere so dim it could be observed with the naked eye. The sky was no longer blue, but a pale brown, oxide-like colour, indicating the oceans had long since dried up. Scattered dust clouds and an everlasting daytime starlight fell across the dying sun on the horizon. The barren land stretched out in every direction, resembling the surface of a dead, alien planet, rather than Earth, with not the faintest trace of life to be seen anywhere.

Through the twilight of the dying sun, Alan could make out the stars in the sky, all of them having formed into completely new constellations over the millennia. Alan could vaguely make out the once constellation of Scorpio which had merged with Proximal Centauri, among other familiar patterns of stars. The Milky Way had long since disintegrated as most of it had merged with the Andromeda Galaxy. Staring at the sun, he saw a large black circle moving across the centre of the red giant; the moon or another planet was causing an eclipse that could only hide a tenth of the enlarged sun. Then he realised it was too big to be the moon; it was none other than Jupiter, the largest gas giant of their solar system. It seemed the Earth had since left its old orbit around the sun and merged with the Jovian System, becoming yet another satellite of Jupiter. This had ironically spared the planet from annihilation when the sun had expended, swallowing Mercury, Venus and Mars over the centuries.

"Where in Frith's name are we?" Bigwig gasped, as the others stared at the endless desolation in horror, "_This_ Frith-forsaken place is your home time?" But Alan shook his head, "No, we just travelled in the wrong direction; we should have penetrated the warp _eastwards_, not _westwards_."

"So this is the _future_ of our world?" Pipkin gasped, trembling, not from fear, but from the cold that filled the air. As Alan's eyes darted to the small thermostat on the control panel, it read –70 degrees Celsius outside and judging by their fast breathing and the splattering of the engine, the atmosphere had a lower oxygen concentration and probably a lower density too; the ionisation caused by the Earth's magnetic field was slowly ceasing, allowing the lighter gases to escape into space. Even inside the cabin, now that the insulation was gone, the cold penetrated the aluminium fuselage, turning the plane into a freezing icebox. They had to leave immediately or risk crashing and dying onto this lifeless world that was now their dying planet.

"In the name of the Black Rabbit, what's happened to Frith? What's become of His brightness, His warmth? Has it all gone too?" Hazel gasped, as he stared in horror at the dying red sun.

"Yes Hazel, the sun is dying and so is our world. And we'll all be dead too, if we don't leave this place right now!" Alan groaned, the cold and the thinness of the air getting to him fast, as he activated the pilot heat and anti-ice system. But with the emergency bottles discarded, he could do nothing to compensate for the drastically low oxygen concentration, which was making his head spin.

Struggling to stay conscious, he swung the plane round and headed back towards the time warp, which was barely visible as a dim aurora in the twilight. As they approached the rim, the lack of oxygen got the better of them and they all slipped into blackout. Alan continued fighting the fainting sensation, knowing that if he lost consciousness, they would all be doomed. But it was no use.

Just before his senses left him, with a final ounce of strength, he reached forward and activated the autopilot and turned the navigation mode to the reverse-course-hold selection. Just as he slipped into blackout, the autopilot system assumed control of the aircraft, flying the ghost aircraft back through the time warp and into the past.

In the next few thousands of millennia that followed, the sun started to shrink until it became a white dwarf. By that time, the Earth had fallen into deep freeze and its remaining atmosphere froze solid, as it entered an everlasting Ice Age, engulfed in eternal darkness. Even its molten core finally cooled, reducing the planet to a sphere of frozen rock that floated through the universe. By the year 5 billion A.D., it had become yet another lifeless, frozen world with an unknown glorious history dating back thousands of millennia, which no intelligent being recorded anymore. By the year 8 billion the sun became a black hole, swallowing up the Earth. The rest of the planets of the solar system followed over the next few millions of years, eliminating the solar system completely. By the year 17 billion, all that was left was a small black dwarf that was once the Sun and its satellites. The Earth was finished.

Finally, after billions of years of existence, in one of the billions, countless of galaxies in the universe, lay a small, dying star. And one of its satellites, a once-green and insignificant planet, is now dead.

Author's note: So now you now the fate of our Earth…For those who are wondering, the year that Alan and company landed in, was 2,037,802,701 A.D. In the original draft there was a deleted scene, where they landed in the far future and found the still functioning remains of HAL in a cave. Coming up next, the WD rabbits in the 21st century. The most impossible and dangerous mission of all time is on the road! Enjoy and please review! By the way, the last paragraph is a near-direct quote from 'Beyond the planet of the apes'. Enjoy and please review. Thank you!


	30. Chapter 30 Welcome To The Year 2013

**January 5th 2013**

Alan slowly opened his eyes looking around him confused. Where was he? He was strapped in a rough seat with a seatbelt around his waist. In the foreground, he could hear an engine whirring and could see a cloudy horizon with the twilight of dawn through the windshield ahead of him…Of course! He was flying with Derek, Robbins and Julio, on their observation flight to New Forest. "Oh drat, did I doze off? How long have I been asleep? Have we arrived yet? What time is it?"

He turned round, to apologize to his three companions, only to find himself staring out of the misty side window. What had happened? Julio occupied the_ left_ pilot's seat while he was supposed to be seated on the _right_ hand seat. Why was he shifted to the captain's side? Then he became aware that he was wearing only his pants, shoes, and t-shirt, which were tattered, bloodstained and drenched in dirt, while his glasses, vest, knife, jacket, and even his shirt were gone. He could feel cuts and bruises all over his body, including a rather nasty wound on his right arm that was coated in dry blood. Panic instantly kicked in, _What the devil is going on here? Where am I? Where are the others? Have we crashed?_ he thought in a panic, taking in his surroundings, _No, I am still airborne and…_ Looking behind him he spotted Bigwig, Hazel, Fiver, Pipkin and Hawkbit curled up onto the floor of the cabin, slowly beginning to stir, now that they were back in a breathable environment.

As the blank spots in his memory began to recede, Alan remembered: Derek, Julio and Robbins were dead, along with Major McEwen, his crew, and most of the Watership Down rabbits. Memories of his incredible journey into the future resurfaced as he got back his bearings. Where were they now? Had they made it? Were they back in the 21st century, or had the time warp transported them even further into the past? Could they be in the Blitz or the Middle Ages, or had they gone as far back as the Jurassic Period? He had to find out.

Hastily putting on the battered headset, he turned the radio to the flight club frequency, "SAM Control, this is 232-G. Repeat, 232-G declaring an emergency. Evacuate all traffic from your runway immediately! I am coming in and I have no fuel. Get the fire brigade and paramedics on standby. Do you copy, over?" But there was no reply, other than some static.

_That's it then_, Alan thought in disappointment, _We have reached some other random time period where radio technology doesn't exist. But wait a second…_ he thought again, _It's the crack of dawn; the flight club won't be open at this hour. Let me try the non-ceasing Greenham frequency instead._ He switched to the Greenham Royal Air Force Base aircraft band, "This is 232-G, declaring an emergency. Do you read me, over?"

As he listened in, he was overjoyed to hear a response, confirming they were indeed back in his own time. He was so overjoyed in fact, that he didn't register the urgency of the reply, until it was too late. _"Unidentified aircraft, be advised you are entering the flight path of a heavy jet. If you maintain your current heading, you will collide. I repeat, you will collide! Change your heading immediately!"_ As the message sunk in, he looked up at the windshield and, to his horror, saw a jet airliner appear out of the fog, heading straight for them at full speed. "OH, MY GOD!"

He pressed down hard on the rudder to starboard, but found something was jamming the controls; the autopilot was still active, maintaining control of the aircraft. He hit the switch to disable it, but by that time the airliner's nose was only a few feet away. He shut his eyes and threw his arms in front of his face, bracing himself for a fatal collision _This is the end. Now, we are dead._ Then there was a violent vibration as the Cessna's left wing grazed the fuselage of the airliner, striking the port engine and causing it to burst into flame. Small chunks of debris flew from both aircraft, as the crippled planes headed off in opposite directions, each succumbing to its own damage.

Alan opened his eyes, realising that miraculously they hadn't been blown out of the sky. The Cessna was gliding towards the ground, vibrating dangerously as the damage from the collision started taking effect. Despite being no aviation expert, he knew the plane was in a bad state and couldn't remain airborne much longer. He turned back to his radio, "Mayday, mayday! This is 232-G declaring an emergency! We have structural damage! Request instructions, over." But the voice of the Greenham Base flight controller was only gibberish, as the collision had damaged the radio antenna.

As he struggled to keep the aircraft level, he realised the hydraulics were also damaged; the ailerons and stabilizer were barely responding, aside from the critical damage on the left wing, which had a small chunk missing at the tip from where it had grazed the airliner, making it very difficult to keep the plane level. As his five companions also got back their bearings, having recovered from the blackout, a fearful situation broke out.

"What in Frith's name is happening? What's going on?" Bigwig bellowed, as Alan struggled to keep the malfunctioning aircraft from stalling out, "We've struck another aircraft. Get everyone to hold on and brace themselves as tight as they can! Things are about to get ugly," he shouted as the plane's klaxon alarm wailed in their ears.

Alan then realised that he had delayed their descent so they didn't have enough space for a landing on the flight club runway. And to add to their problems, their fuel was nearly depleted; any second now they would be running on fumes. There was only one solution left, "I'll circle this thing around and land in the _opposite_ direction. The airfield won't have any air traffic as it's closed, so the runway will be clear for an emergency landing." But as he tried to make a turn, the damaged rudder failed and froze in midships, making any further turning impossible, "Damn it, it's not working for turns! We'll have to take our chances as we are and hope there is enough runway to land on."

He continued their descent, feeling the plane's manoeuvrability weaken with every passing second. As they reached 500ft, the alarm buzzer sounded again as the fuel indicator read zero. The engine started to lose thrust and the prop begun to slow down, leaving the crippled plane gliding towards the ground without power. "Oh, my God. Fuel's gone. If we miss the approach, we won't have enough power to pull up again."

As Alan lowered the flaps, suddenly the control lever jammed, leaving the flaps stuck halfway down; although they were gradually slowing down, they were still moving too fast for touch down, at an excessive speed of 95 knots. Then he suddenly realised that the runway was completely overrun with snow; because of his blurred vision and in his panic to keep the crippled aircraft under control, he hadn't noticed earlier.

_We are finished; no fuel, the aircraft about to fall to pieces, and now a snowed up runway. Just great!_ he thought as he continued to struggle with the controls. Yet, now there was nothing that could be done; it was now or never. "Here we go; everybody lie flat on the floor and cover your heads with your forepaws. It's going to be a rough landing." Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his friends follow his instructions as they all lay down side by side with their paws over their heads.

With only 100ft to go, the hydraulics failed completely, disabling all control of the aircraft. As Alan fought to keep the descent under control, he felt the stick fail completely, leaving the plane completely out of control, "Everybody brace for crash landing. BRACE NOW!" he bellowed, as the stall warning started to buzz and not a second later, the wheels touched down in 5-feet deep snow. By instinct, Alan hit the fuel cut-off switch and turned the knob that triggered the fire suppression bottle, only to remember that the tank was bone dry so there was nothing left to catch fire.

Like a snowplough, the battered fuselage skidded through the snow, sending geysers of snow flying through the air. The undercarriage was instantly flattened as the plane skidded across the ground on its belly, mowing its way through the snow. Completely out of control, it skidded off the runway, burst through the fence surrounding the flight club and slid downhill into a ditch. Suddenly, the weight of the snow brushing against the windshield became too excessive and the glass imploded, sending a shower of snow and glass splinters flying into the cabin. Then it struck a tree and stopped dead, the collision sending them all flying forward into the pilot's console.

Sven Shertok was on his way to Buxton Hall, for a conference with the rest of the Brotherhood's inner circle; tonight he was going to announce Red Hand's inevitable disbanding. Their leader Sergey, hospitalised for nearly a week now after suffering a near-fatal heart attack, still showed no change and his chances of survival remained in question. What was worse, he had been unable to pass on the location of the most crucial components of Project Black Inferno to his faction, forcing them to postpone their work. Some faction members had visited him at the hospital to question him but had found him in a near comatose state, unable to talk.

As it had turned out, Sergey had nearly died because of a dud medication sent to him; it seemed almost as if there was still someone out there who knew the truth and was working against them. Sven, stationed in the British Armed Forces as a spy for Red Hand, as well as the chief engineer on Project Black Inferno, knew that without the cores, the entire project was useless. So far, Red Hand had been unable to locate the cores or determine the identity of this unknown enemy. If something happened to Sergey before he could tell them where the cores were, it would all be over for them.

As he drove along the lane towards Overton, he suddenly noticed a strange headlight shinning through the blizzard, just around a curve. Pulling over, he got out and walked to the edge of the road for a closer look. Just beyond the safety barrier, was a lake, frozen over by the cold. As he stared in the direction of the flickering lights coming from the far edge, expecting to see a car accident, he noticed it wasn't a car at all, but a small battered plane, with the number 232-G stamped on the side of the tail fin. It was Johnson's plane, which had supposedly crashed nine days ago in New Forest with no survivors!

"By the moustache of Stalin, it can't be! Where did that plane come from? How long has it been here?" he wondered in shocked amazement, as he noticed the plane still had power, indicating it had only been there a short time. Although Tom Shelton had assured him that the Cessna had crashed, now it had shown up right outside the flight club! Sven felt a sense of urgency build up inside him, _I have to tell the others about this right away; it looks like it isn't over yet._ Nearly frozen stiff, he hurried back to his car and set off at full speed for Buxton Hall, where he would inform his comrades that Johnson could still be alive. Perhaps he and Shaw had discovered the scam and where behind all this sabotage? If that were the case, they would have to be found and silenced at all costs…

Meanwhile, inside the crashed aircraft, six bruised and battered companions dug themselves out of the snow that had poured in on them through the imploded windshield. A weak current from the plane's battery was still running, generating a dim glow from the cabin lights, allowing them to see their surroundings. Although nobody had suffered any serious injuries, they were hardly a sight for sore eyes, with gruesome cuts and bruises all over their bodies. Fiver was still unconscious.

Ignoring the stabbing pains from the glass splinters that had wedged themselves into his skin, Bigwig turned to look at Alan and saw that he had been thrown to the cabin floor, buried under the avalanche that had poured in on him. "Alan! Come on chaps, he'll suffocate down there! Pipkin, Hawkbit, help me here. Hurry!" The four rabbits started digging and soon, Alan's chocking and spluttering face emerged from the snow. He too, didn't seem to be badly injured, as he unfastened the seatbelt of his collapsed seat, smiling at his rabbit friends.

Using all their remaining strength, they dragged Alan to the rear end of the cabin that wasn't filled with snow. Coughing and splattering, the six survivors huddled into the small confined space, shivering from the cold. "Everybody all right?" Alan asked, staring nervously at each one in turn, praying that there were no serious injuries, trying to ignore the bitter cold that was causing him to shudder in his state of near-undress.

"We 're all alive," acknowledged Bigwig, as he stared at the unfamiliar terrain outside the window, "But _where_ are we? Did we make it? Or are we in some other Frith-forsaken place?" But Alan, remembering the jet airliner, was convinced that they were back in the 21st century. "Yes, we are currently in the area where Sandleford warren will exist sometime in the future."

"What in Frith's name was that hrududu that hit us? Couldn't it see us?" Hawkbit exclaimed, nursing a nasty bruise on his left forepaw. Alan chuckled at his friend's ignorance of the human world, "Planes are not living creatures; the don't act the same way we do. Anyway, they couldn't detect us from afar since we had no transponder and when they saw us, it was too late to make a turn." Staring out of the window, towards the sky, he saw the airliner had strangely vanished.

"So what do we do now?" asked Bigwig, seemingly waiting for further instructions; in this world, even he was completely out of his element. Alan glanced out the window at the thick blizzard; it was dangerous weather with sub-zero temperatures, making a trek to Newtown too risky, "We shall have to stay here until daylight; if we get lost out there, we will freeze to death." But suddenly, they heard a cracking noise from the bottom of the aircraft; it sounded like glass cracking and it was slowly intensifying with every move they made. Alan froze.

"Nobody move! All of you, keep very still!" he hissed, as he stared out the misty window, at the ground they had landed on. In an instant, his fears were confirmed: under the snow they were lying on was a frozen lake. The weight of the fuselage was slowly causing the ice to shatter. Any second now, it would give way and they would all be submerged into the deadly freezing water beneath their feet.

"We have to get out of here now. Everybody, nice and slowly, I want you to walk across the ice sheet, towards that tree. We go one at a time and we go very carefully. Remember, there is thin ice under our feet, so watch your step." Carefully, he opened the door, causing a chilling gust of wind to blow into the cabin, making them all shiver. "Hawkbit you first. Go!"

Hawkbit, slowly and cautiously, made his way across the ice sheet. Alan and the others watched with anticipation, expecting the ice to give way at any second. But fortunately it held. "All right Hazel, you and Fiver are next. Go!" Carrying his unconscious brother on his back, the Chief Rabbit walked across the cracking ice, to join Hawkbit. Again, although the ice cracked dangerously with each step, it held. One by one, they crossed over the ice without incident. Finally, only Bigwig and Alan were left.

"Go Bigwig, I am right behind you!" The veteran took his turn and, despite his massive weight, the ice still held. Alan paused for a second, as he tried to send out a final SOS. He knew that long radio interception was impossible at ground level, but perhaps somebody chatting on his private radio receiver nearby, would intercept his frequency. But as he fiddled with the radio bands, he realised the power was gone; the mainframe had drained the last of the battery.

Unfortunately, his delay to attempt to summon help was a big mistake; suddenly, the ice finally shattered and the plane quickly began to sink. Ice-cold water poured into the cabin, swamping him, as the plane went under by the nose. Icy pain struck every inch of his body, causing him to scream in agony, a scream that was instantly muffled by the water. Just before his last ounce of strength left him, he forced himself out of the submerged fuselage and broke the surface of the water, panting, "Oh God, this is cold!" His last thought before his head went under was what the Forty Martyrs must have endured during their ordeal in the frozen lake.

Seeing their friend fall through the ice, sent a chill of horror down the rabbits' spines; although they didn't possess half the knowledge Alan did, the effects of hypothermia weren't unheard of back in their world. Fearlessly, Bigwig darted across the ice sheet. Just as Alan's outstretched hand was about to go under, the tough veteran grabbed hold and pulled as hard as he could. Ignoring the danger of falling through the ice as well, Pipkin, Hawkbit and even Hazel also pitched in and pulled. Alan's semiconscious form resurfaced and they pulled him out onto the bank. They stared at their friend's trembling and soaked body as he lay shivering in the snow, the effects of exposure getting at him fast.

"We can't stay here Hazel," Bigwig muttered as they stared at Alan's freezing form, which was starting to develop ice crystals on his clothes and hair, as he slowly froze solid. "We have to get him someplace warm, or the Black Rabbit will get to him soon."

"But where can we go? Nothing looks familiar around here," Pipkin said, staring at their unfamiliar surroundings, which looked nothing like Sandleford. But Bigwig, being a superior tracker with the sharpest eye, suddenly called out, "Over there! I can see a man-burrow up there. Maybe we can find shelter there." Following the path that the Cessna had ploughed through the snow, they made their way towards the deserted radio shack of the flight club. Alan was carried on Bigwig's back while Hazel carried Fiver, Pipkin and Hawkbit bringing up the rear.

Having seen Alan do it several times before, Hazel tried to nudge the door open, only to discover it was locked. "We can't get in; we shall have to find shelter elsewhere. Under there!" he said, pointing at the empty aircraft hanger beside the cabin. They laid Alan down on the dry patch of earth beneath the hanger and Bigwig, Hawkbit and Pipkin huddled close to him, trying to give him all the warmth their furry bodies could provide.

"By Frith, he is cold as ice!" Hawkbit shuddered, feeling Alan's semi-frozen body against his side. However, a rabbit's warm body works like a hot water bottle and combined with the fact that there were three giant rabbits providing heat simultaneously, Alan was quickly beginning to defrost, his body temperature quickly returning to normal and allowing him to regain consciousness.

"Oh…where…where am I?" the man groaned as he weakly opened his eyes, finding himself wrapped in the warm embrace of three giant rabbits, with Pipkin lying across his chest and Bigwig and Hawkbit on either side. Then it all came back to him: He was back home in the 21st century, an era he had given up for long gone. Apparently, the scientific speculations that _backward_ travel in time was impossible had been wrong; he had successfully penetrated the time barrier and travelled into the future - twice - and then successfully reversed it and returned to the present, where he had left off.

His joy of being back was short-lived however, when he suddenly remembered that Fiver was still critically injured and possibly dying. He sat bolt upright, causing the freezing air to hit him again, making him shiver in his damp clothes. The rabbits, startled, but overjoyed at his recovery, gathered round him, sniffing, licking and nuzzling at him with their noses and snowflake-covered bodies.

"Frith in the sky, don't you scare us like that again, you duffer!" Bigwig sighed deeply, his usually growling voice having softened out of joy. Then Alan spotted Fiver, still comatose, lying beside his brother who was trying not to sob with worry. Hurryingly, he got up and headed for the cabin. "Come on, we'll find better shelter inside." He tried to force the door open, but to no avail. Picking up a stone, he broke the window beside the handle, stuck his arm in and unlocked the door from the other side. They entered the dark cabin and Alan shut the door behind them, blocking out the cold.

Shivering violently, he hurried over to a gas heater that stood in a corner and lit it using McEwen's lighter. Within minutes, the room had warmed up, making them all much more comfortable. After a few minutes, he felt his strength return and walked over to the first aid cabinet. Taking out a box of compressors and a tourniquet, he bandaged his injured arm, where Woundwort had bit him. Although the cut was rather deep and would probably require stitches to heal, it would do for now.

Hurrying over to the phone on Shelton's desk, he dialled the number of a local veterinary, which he had found in the local phone book. Unfortunately, he found there was no power or dial tone, the blizzard having knocked out most of the lines in the area. Meanwhile, he noticed that Fiver was getting weaker and needed immediate treatment or he would die. There was only one way.

Hurrying over to the locker room where the pilots kept their belongings, he found his and Derek's jackets were still there. Putting on his own, covering his ghastly rags and providing him protection from the cold, he picked up Derek's and covered Fiver with it, who was more vulnerable to exposure from his injury. "We shall have to drive to Newtown Common, to find a doctor. Everybody stick together and follow me!" Carrying Fiver in his arms, Alan and his five friends left the cabin and made for the deserted parking lot where his jeep was still parked, completely covered with snow.

Ten minutes later, the jeep was ploughing its way through the snow-covered roads with chains on its wheels, heading towards Newtown Common. Although the rabbits were completely overwhelmed by this unique experience of seeing the human world for the first time, Fiver's rapidly decaying health kept them all downcast and worrying; although miraculously still alive, the young buck seemed to be getting weaker by the minute and more than once, Alan got the impression that he had stopped breathing, as he stared at him in the overhead mirror.

Suddenly, as the jeep turned on a curve that led into town, it passed over a layer of ice and fell out of control; it skidded off the road and landed into a pile of thick snow, where it stopped dead, completely immobilised. The blizzard continued to batter the stuck vehicle with all its might. Alan turned to his friends, "Everybody out; we are walking from here."

While the population of Newtown Common lay sound asleep in the warmth of their beds, a group of six miserable and freezing companions strode up the high street, heading towards the address indicated in the phonebook that Alan had found in Shelton's office. As they reached the address, Alan saw to his great relief they had found what they needed: nailed to the wall of the cottage, was a brass sign spelling:

DR JOSIE C MCEWAN

VETERINARIAN

Alan felt his hopes rise; although he couldn't help but feel that it was a mistake to reveal the future world to a complete stranger, he knew he had no choice, if Fiver was to have any chance of recovery. And McEwen's widow was the best person they could risk talking to at this point.

Gritting his teeth for the inevitable, he rang the bell but then remembered the power was out in the area. So, instead he resolved to tapping the brass knocker on the door. "Hallo! Anybody home? We need help, hallo!" For a few minutes there was no reply and Alan began to fear the veterinarian wasn't at home. Then, suddenly, like God had suddenly decided to be merciful again, Alan heard footsteps inside and next moment the door opened ajar, revealing the face of a beautiful young woman around Alan's age staring at the dishevelled professor by candlelight.

"Hallo? Who are you, sir? What do you want, calling at this hour? My goodness!" she explained, cringing at the sight of Alan's ghastly appearance, with his shredded bloodstained clothes and all the injuries covering his body. The man spoke in an urgent voice, "Ma'am, sorry to disturb you, but I need your help immediately. This is a medical emergency! A friend of mine is dying."

The woman looked over Alan's shoulder and spotted his rabbit companions, which, through the darkness, resembled short people in rabbit-skin hats. "All right, come in," she said and led them to the infirmary at the back of the house. Alan laid Fiver down on the operating table, while the vet lit several battery lanterns. As the artificial light filled the room, she realised her visitors were in fact giant talking rabbits. She was stunned, staring at the rabbits open-mouthed. Seeing her distraction, Alan nudged her gently on the shoulder, "I'll explain later. Right now, you have to concentrate on your patient." Sensing the urgency in the man's voice, without a word, she got to work.

Removing Alan's jacket from over Fiver and seeing the syringe wound, which had turned a shade of blue, she frowned, "What caused this?"

"Strychnine poisoning," Alan answered, explaining how he had used chloroform meant for military use, to slow down the effects of the poison. She considered for a moment trying to determine the appropriate treatment; since there was no known antidote, it would have to be symptomatic therapy, "This will require a two-person job. Are you a medic?" she asked. Alan shook his head, but added, "I am a zoologist and I've taken basic first aid training in the Marines. I can assist you, if you just give me instructions in detail." The young woman seeing there was no other option at this point, nodded, "All right, but you'll have to follow my instructions to the _letter_ if we are going to save him."

As the two humans worked, the four rabbits watched, not daring to utter a word, silently praying that Fiver would live to see another day. Alan didn't speak a word either, hoping that whatever treatment the veterinary provided would work for these giant future rabbits, without causing any complications due to their unknown metabolism.

Dr McEwen gave the professor instructions, moving from cabinet to cabinet, taking out drugs and equipment. After introducing a solution of tannic acid to neutralise the effects of the strychnine, followed by a large dose of morphine to keep the buck sedated until the effects of the poison would wear off entirely, she turned to Alan, "All right, I did everything I could. Now the only thing we can do is wait till he wakes. Unless there are any complications, he should recover nicely."

They moved Fiver to a small side room just off the infirmary, where sick animals were kept overnight and gently lay him down in a large fluffy-pillowed basket normally used for large dogs. His pulse was stronger now and his breathing normal, yet remained unconscious from the anaesthetic. The rest of the rabbits huddled around him, keeping him warm and comfortable. Noticing all their gruesome cuts and bruises, Mrs McEwen got to work, treating their injuries as well, before giving them a mild anaesthetic to help them sleep. Within minutes, the group, exhausted from the hardships and fatigue they had endured in the past 24 hours, were sound asleep. Alan however remained awake, as he turned to Josie McEwan, who had been waiting for him; the time for explanations had come.

She led him into the living room where they sat in the pinewood armchairs, facing each other. Alan felt goose bumps as he noticed several newspapers lying on the coffee table, including one bearing the outrageous headline declaring him a suicidal lunatic, which he had also seen in the HAB museum in the future.

"Now then AJ…"said Josie, passing him a mug of hot coffee, something Alan had been craving for during the past week, "I believe you promised me an explanation." The use of his nickname AJ jolted Alan's memory, as nobody had called him by it since he was a teenager. Staring back into the girl's beautiful sapphire-like eyes, he suddenly remembered: she was his ex-girlfriend, Josie Clayton, who had grown up at the same orphanage with him and Derek. They had been lovers, but eventually gone separate ways, "_Josie Clayton?_ Is it really you?"

"Josie _McEwan_," she corrected him, "I am married to Major James McEwan…or was," she said, her tone suddenly turning serious, "What on earth happened to you Alan? After all these years, your name suddenly pops up in a missing investigation; my husband goes in search of you and vanishes off the face of the earth. And now you suddenly show up on my doorstep injured and accompanied by a group of _talking giant rabbits_. And then, there was this accident with your family last year…What on earth is going on here?" In an instant, Alan understood where she was getting at; she had recognised him in the infirmary, but had waited patiently till they were alone, so she could question him about the whereabouts of her husband. He considered for a second, uncertain whether or not to entrust her with his secret. Realising that he was already beyond the point of no return and couldn't hope for anything better than at least having a familiar face to talk to, he decided to tell her.

"Josie, before I can tell you, I want you to swear on oath of secrecy, not to reveal this information to a living soul. Our lives, the future of the _world_ for that matter, may depend on it." Although suspicious, she promised, so Alan launched into his story of his incredible journey into the future. By the time he was finished, Josie was in tears, not only from the news of her husband's death, but also touched from everything Alan had lived through, "So my husband is…dead?"

"I am afraid so, along with Derek and everyone else who went into the future with me." He then walked over to her and put a comforting arm around her, "Josie, I understand it must be hard for you, but there is something I have to ask you right now: Do you believe my story? I want an honest answer please." She looked at him and slowly nodded.

"Normally, I would have called you a liar or a lunatic, but after what I saw in my infirmary tonight, I can't help but believe you." Alan shot her a look of gratitude, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out McEwen's lighter, which he put into her hand.

"Your husband requested that I return this to you before he died. He was a brave man Josie and we owe our lives to him." Josie silently sobbed as she took the lighter, before turning back to Alan. "What can I do to help you? Should we call the police so you can give them a statement about Robbins and this missile?" But Alan shook his head firmly.

"No, that's the worst thing we can do. Not only would it be too difficult to explain where I got all the information from, but also those Red Hand murderers won't hesitate to kill more people, to keep their secret; my wife, daughter, and brother-in-law were enough. Besides, if the information about the future leaks out, it could destroy any chance of correcting the future... if it hasn't already."

"But you said civilisation is doomed either way; surely, we must at least try and _warn_ the world…"

"The world as we know it will come to an end in 2029 no matter what we do, but a new world will then be born from the ashes of the old. If we are to protect the origins of that new world, the public must not know about it prematurely. If something prevents my colleague Drake from undertaking his experiments, then the future will be lost. The world I discovered was just fine, until that madman Robbins decided to wipe it out to get to me. Project Black Inferno has to be destroyed now, if the world is to have a chance for a future, so civilisation can start over."

"But if what you say is true, the human race will only become extinct all over again. How do we save the human race from extinction?" But Alan, who had been thinking along the same lines, calmed her, "Don't worry Josie; I have been doing some serious thinking about this. After my job here is complete and, assuming that I survive, I intend to return to the future with my friends, to stay. My presence there will give civilisation the chance for a new beginning."

"Then I'll come with you Alan," Josie said, sitting up. Alan stared at her open-mouthed, "Josie, you don't understand. Where I am going, life is not easy; I will be completely cut off from civilisation for the rest of my life and forced to fend for myself. Besides, what about your son, your family?" But Josie interrupted him, "My son is missing too Alan; after James's funeral, he took a glider from the flight club and went in search of his father…" In an instant, Alan realised what had happened; the glider had gone through the warp and disappeared into time, just like he had done.

"My son has gone where you and my husband went; that's why I was so quick to accept your story. If there is a chance he is still alive, then I have to find him." Alan, seeing that she had a right to make that decision, not to mention her presence in the future could actually be beneficial, nodded in silent approval, "All right, you can come with me. However, the destruction of Project Black Inferno takes priority. And above all, remember that absolute secrecy is crucial. I am on unfamiliar territory Josie; my return back here is probably altering the course of history as we speak. If I don't play my cards carefully, I could end up destroying my friends' world forever."

By now, Alan was feeling dog-tired and struggling to stay awake. Josie noticed his exhaustion and walked over to him, "Get some sleep, Al. You need rest." Within seconds, Alan was out on the sofa. Quietly, Josie went back to her office and came back with a first aid kit. Carefully, she doctored Alan's wounds while the man slept peacefully. After she was done, she sat in the armchair opposite him.

Although deeply depressed to hear of her husband's murder, as well as her missing son, she couldn't help but feel an opportunity for starting anew. She stared at Alan, feeling the love she had once felt for him, slowly reigniting inside her heart. She kept thinking of the wonderful times they had spent together during their teen years and her feelings for him, which she had kept to herself throughout her marriage to James McEwen. In spite of her thoughts, she too was terribly exhausted and soon drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, Sven had reached Buxton Hall and summoned all key faction members for an emergency meeting, "I am telling you, it was Johnson's plane! And you idiot, assured us they had crashed and died!" he hissed, rounding on Tom Shelton, who grew pale; aside from Robbins, Sven was the most feared and sadistic member of Red Hand, with a reputation of killing other faction members that failed in their duties, "Do you realise what this means?"

"I assumed they were dead. There was no other explanation…" Shelton mumbled, trying to think up an excuse to appease Sven, who rolled his eyes, "In my vocabulary, 'assumption' translates as the mother of all screw-ups!" He turned to the rest of his faction, "Any news on Sergey?"

"The hospital says he has regained consciousness but I don't dare use an open line to ask about the cores of Black Inferno," said another, scarred terrorist called Samir, "Besides, the little man has a point; it has been nine days since Johnson vanished. If he has been alive all this time, then why does he remain silent? Perhaps this is an elaborate set-up by that unknown enemy who has been sabotaging us lately?"

"Enough of all this hypothesizing!" bellowed Sven, "When it's daybreak, we are going to the crash site to investigate. If there is any evidence that Johnson so much as still breathes, then he has to be found and disposed off fast. In the meantime, I suggest we prepare for the worst. First thing in the morning, I will be cancelling my leave so I can return and keep monitoring the police forces. Shelton, you are returning to your flight club, to monitor the radio stations in the area. Otto and Carl, you are going to London to stand watch at Johnson and Shaw's apartments. If either are still alive, then they must be found and killed before they ruin everything!"

Author's note: Now, the time has come to correct the future. Some new characters will be introduced soon, including Dr Drake. Originally, Hazel died in the crash and went down with the plane. But, after realising whoever dies now has no chance of being brought back, I changed it to Alan having yet another brush with death…Do enjoy and please review so I can update. Thank you!


	31. Chapter 31 Surprise in London

Alan yawned and stretched as he woke up, daylight shining through the window onto his face. Although there was still deep snow outside, the blizzard had passed and the weather was clear. As he stared down at himself, he saw all his wounds had all been treated and dressed while he had been asleep, but his clothes remained tattered and shredded. Suddenly, he heard a commotion coming from the infirmary and saw Pipkin running into the lounge, looking excited, "Alan, come here! Fiver is awake!"

No sooner had those words reached Alan's ears, when he leapt from the sofa and followed Pipkin back to the infirmary, where the other rabbits and Josie were gathered around Fiver. Josie had placed the buck on the examination table and was checking his vitals. Alan saw the young buck was indeed finally awake, looking rather weak and peaked, but definitely on the road to recovery. Hazel stood right beside his brother, looking overjoyed that his sibling was saved. The others too looked extremely joyful, the destruction of their world entirely forgotten. Fiver shot Alan a look of gratitude, as the man gently patted him over the head, "How are you feeling lad?"

"He is doing fine, thanks to you Alan and Josie as well," Bigwig said, smiling in a way that Alan had never seen before; being a dedicated warrior, his manner was usually strict and firm, never smiling. Hazel gently nudged Alan on the shoulder and as the man turned round to face him, the buck placed his paws on Alan's shoulders to embrace him.

"My dear friend, you have done me, done us _all_, a great favour. Hadn't it been for you, my brother would be dead now and so would the rest of us. If there is anything we can do to repay the favour, name it Alan!" Despite feeling slightly embarrassed by all this praising, Alan saw his chance.

"Hazel, as you already know, my world is doomed; if humanity is to have any chance of starting anew, it has to be in the future, in _your_ world. If we succeed in correcting the future, will you accept me and anyone else I choose to bring with me, to set up a new colony among your people?" Hazel nodded without hesitation.

"You have my word, that you and anyone else you bring to the meadows of Fenlo, will always be welcome in our home. You have earned that right by far; you have proven that not all humans are evil and that peaceful coexistence between our species is indeed possible. You are a good soul Alan, pure of heart, a true friend and trusted ally and we gladly accept you as one of us." Alan felt deeply touched at Hazel's kind words; although he had already been welcomed among them back in the future, Hazel had never officially accepted humans among his people and Alan had hardly expected to even earn the Chief Rabbit's approval, especially after everything Robbins had done. The Threarah, General Woundwort, and so many others had seen him as nothing less than a threat, yet Hazel's words now diminished that prospect.

His mind flashed back to when they had first met; back then, Hazel had been cautious of Alan, unsure if he was trustworthy or not. Now, in full confidence, Hazel finally accepted him as one of his people. He had just earned a new future for himself and a second chance for humanity to start anew in a new world. "Thank you Hazel-rah. You have all given me something that Robbins had taken away from me; the will to continue on living." The bucks and even Josie all smiled.

Meanwhile, Sven, accompanied by his henchmen, had returned at the Cessna crash site. One of the men had donned a diver's ice suit, had taken the plunge to inspect the wreck, while the others stood guard. Sven stood on the edge of the ditch, licking his lips in anxiety. Soon the diver resurfaced through the hole in the ice, "Well?"

"It's empty; I couldn't find any bodies inside. If we are looking for corpses, we are in the wrong place. The aircraft is also stripped to the bones; even the passenger seats and panelling are missing. Very peculiar condition for an aircraft to be flying in…"

"And Shelton just reported Johnson's jeep has gone missing from the flight club," another man said, "There is also evidence of a recent break-in at the radio shack. But it still doesn't figure; _where_ has Johnson been all this time and why would he want to keep his survival a secret?" But Shertok, who had been piecing everything together in the back of his head, had a suspicion.

"So the crashed aircraft is just a _decoy_," he reasoned, "I guess that settles it. Some unforeseen informant _tipped off_ Johnson, who took matters into his own hands. They must have killed Robbins, pulled a vanishing act to make us believe that they had died in a plane crash and then fled into hiding. And if this informant who is aiding them, knew about this scheme, then he probably knows about Project Black Inferno as well, so Johnson must now know about it as well," he said, "Looks like we got ourselves a bigger problem than we anticipated."

"So what do we do now boss?" asked another terrorist, "Johnson and his friends could be on the other side of the world by now. We'll never find them." Shertok considered for a moment; although it sounded logical that Johnson and Shaw would flee the country at the first given opportunity to save themselves, the realisation that someone else was aiding the fugitives, told Sven otherwise.

"Not necessarily," he said, "This sort of cover-up gives me the impression that Dr Johnsonfaked his own death so he could work undercover and nail us. He is a former soldier after all and has nothing to lose…" Takings a few minutes to think up a plan, he turned to his men.

"First and foremost, we have to alert Sergey about this; if Johnson has made the connection already, he will probably go after him (perhaps _he_ was the reason he was hospitalised in the first place). I want lookouts stationed at every possible place of retreat. In fact, having anticipated such a complication, I took the initiative of improvising a plan to get the professor within our grasp," he said with an evil sneer. Being a police deputy, he had authority and useful connections in the Armed Forces, all of which could now be used to their advantage, "If he thinks he can play cat-and-mouse with us, then he can play by _our_ rules. The cat will soon become the mouse…"

Meanwhile, back in the McEwen household, Alan and his companions were going over their next course of action; the perilous task of correcting the future-yet-to-come, so the calamity Robbins caused could be evaded, had started. After Alan had washed, shaved and changed his shredded clothes, the group had made themselves comfortable in Josie's living room, going over notes, maps, newspapers, and the Internet, planning ahead. Josie had briefed them on everything that had happened during the ten days following Alan's disappearance. After several of hours of research, they soon had enough information to plan their first step.

Just like they had learned in the future, the media had initially reported Alan's disappearance as a plane accident, which had soon been concluded as a suicide, after Alan's history of depression and isolation had been revealed, undoubtedly by Red Hand, in an attempt to see the case closed as soon as possible. Major McEwen's disappearance had also been reported but without enough evidence to link it to Alan's disappearance, it had been ruled out as a coincidental accident. However, there wasn't the faintest mention of Robbins, confirming Alan's suspicions that the authorities remained unaware of Red Hand's involvement or Project Black Inferno. Nonetheless, as they regarded him dead, it would give them the advantage, since Alan didn't want to reveal himself any more than necessary, which could jeopardise the outcome of the new future they would try and weave. After browsing through some books in her husband's library, Josie was also able to find them some useful information, which would help them on their mission.

The Buxton Estate, which was located outside the neighbouring town of Overton, was a former mining site dating back to the early 1900's, founded by wealthy tycoon Sir Joshua Hayes Buxton, who had also built the family manor on the property. The mine had closed in the early 1920's after the ore had run out and later converted into a bomb shelter during World War II. Afterwards, it had been left abandoned for decades until some twenty years ago, when the last living descendant of the Buxton family, Joseph Alois Buxton III, had returned from Russia, where the family had emigrated after going bankrupt following the closing of the mine, to reclaim the estate. This last living Buxton, who had made a new fortune abroad, had renovated Buxton Hall, as well as the mine, which was being made into a 'tourist attraction'. A recent newspaper reported that Buxton had suffered a heart attack and was currently hospitalised in London, his chances of recovery questionable.

Although it made perfect sense that Red Hand had bought the property and secretly converted it into their new headquarters, with the 'restoration of the mine' actually being the construction of Project Black Inferno, something still didn't add up. According to Robbins, the leader of the Red Hand Brotherhood was a fanatic former Soviet named _Sergey Petrograd_. They had found an online profile on the infamous terrorist, with a list of all his crimes and the sum of a reward for his capture, but no photographs, with a statement that none existed. But if this Joseph Buxton was the current owner of the estate and held no criminal record, how could he be involved in this business? Could he be a secret ally of Petrograd?

The riddle was soon solved as Alan cast a glance at a newspaper photograph of Buxton shaking hands with the mayor of Overton, who was granting him the permit for the mine restoration project, only to recognise the face of the old man which he had seen in the photograph from Robbins' journal, confirming that Joseph Buxton was in fact _Sergey Petrograd_. After assessing the situation, Alan came up with a plan.

"Since everything we do from here cannot be reversed, we shall have to plan our every step carefully and we shall have to work virtually invisible, for our very _presence_ could influence the future," he said, emphasizing the importance of secrecy; the appearance of a supposedly dead man, accompanied by five giant talking rabbits from the future would be catastrophic, "Our first step will be to hasten the demise of Red Hand's ringleader, to ensure that the location of the cores dies with him, to force Red Hand to disband. After that's done, we can recover the cores at our leisure and dispose of them so Project Black Inferno can't be restored in the future. We won't tempt with history any more than absolutely necessary. Hopefully, that alone will be enough to spare the future world from destruction and maybe even prevent the deaths of our friends…"

"Something is troubling you," Bigwig said, not missing the doubtful tone in Alan's voice, "What are you keeping from us?"

"There is absolutely no guarantee that this is going to work; what we are planning hasn't so much as ever been _dreamt of_ before, let alone attempted. Our strategy is just based on crude assumptions and pure instinct. As for the consequences of failure…I'd rather not discuss it." Alan replied, emphasizing the uncertainty of their situation; even the most advanced science had no way of foretelling the consequences of tempting with time and he couldn't help but fear that changing the past might prove impossible due to temporal paradoxes and other unforeseen factors.

"Unfortunately, we have no other choice; we just have to trust in Frith's guidance and all the tricks and cunning El-ahrairah gave us and do our best, if we are to reclaim our lives and world." The rabbits turned to look at their Chief, impressed by his calmness and determination, despite the uncertainty of their situation. Alan nodded in agreement, "So I guess it's full steam ahead!"

Revising his plan, Alan decided they would first make for London, to pick up all the necessary equipment from his home, before going after Buxton at St Thomas' Hospital. After giving instructions to Josie to clean up every trace of their visit and keep quiet should anyone come asking questions, as well as a warning not to attempt to contact him in case someone had her phone tapped, Alan went out to retrieve his jeep and bring it outside Josie's home to pick up his companions.

Putting on a Royal Air Force jacket that belonged to McEwen, along with a woollen cap to hide his hair, he hurried to where his jeep had gotten stuck in the snow last night; there, he found, to his dismay, that he had driven it straight into a local's driveway, narrowly avoiding wrecking the garden.

Although snowploughs had arrived at first light and cleared the roads, the jeep had landed in a deep pile of snow when it had gone off the road, making it difficult to reverse back onto the street. As Alan tried to manoeuvre, he heard a familiar voice, which sent chills down his spine, "Howdy mister. Having car trouble?" He turned and spotted non other than Tom Shelton, who had appeared at the gate of the house; it was _his_ garden that Alan had crashed his jeep into. Quickly pulling the rim of his cap low and adjusting his jacket collar to hide his face, Alan turned to face the traitorous flight controller, using, what he hoped, was a neutral tone of voice as not to arise suspicion, "Oh…hallo. Sorry to butt into your backyard like this. I had a bit of a skid on that curve…"

"I figured," Shelton replied casually, "That curve is always dangerous in icy weather. Need some help getting it back on the road?" With Shelton pushing against the bonnet, Alan was able to put the jeep in reverse and slowly inch it backwards until the tyres found the dry concrete of the road, "Thanks. Sorry again about the yard..."

"Don't mention it; this place is a dump anyway. You just watch yourself pal," Shelton called as Alan hurriedly drove off, back towards Josie's house, breathing a sigh of relief, glad to have gotten away from Shelton without being recognised, "Whew, that was a close shave! Thank God that fellow is an idiot or the cat would be out of the bag now."

But unfortunately, Tom Shelton was anything but an idiot for, despite Alan having covered his face, the man had recognised the jeep's licence plates, as well as Alan's voice, and had wisely only been _playing_ oblivious. The instant Alan had turned the corner of the street, Shelton had taken out his mobile and dialled Sven's private number, "It's Shelton boss; I've found Johnson!"

Hurrying back to Josie's house, Alan picked up his companions and then, they were on their way to London. Despite the perilous task that lay ahead of them, in the light of Fiver's recovery, the rabbits had regained their curiosity for this strange new world they were in, as they stared in amazement and bewilderment at all the unfamiliar structures of human civilisation that stood everywhere, from electrical pylons to farms. Pipkin in particular kept firing question after question to Alan who, despite getting rather annoyed, couldn't help but feel amused at Pipkin's eternal childish curiosity. Hawkbit on the other hand, only threw in his usual sarcastic remarks as they drove across the snow-covered countryside towards London. Hazel and Fiver simply stared in silent wonder, observing this new world; only Bigwig remained indifferent as he sat fully alert watching for any signs of trouble.

It was late noon by the time the group reached the outskirts of the capitol of the United Kingdom; as the jeep crossed an elevated highway overlooking the megalopolis in the Richmond area, the rabbits all gasped in amazement as they caught sight of their first city. Alan smiled at their looks of bewilderment as they saw all the buildings poking out of the ground, all the way out to the horizon; compared to their home time, the sight of a seemingly endless landscape overrun by human civilisation came as quite a shock to them. They all stared in owe at the buildings that towered over them like giant cliffs, as they drove through the suburbs of the city, "So this place is your home warren?"

"Never seen anything so ugly in my entire life," Hawkbit put in, "You humans actually live in those…those _hollow rocks_? Looks to me like the ideal spot to be picked off by flying elil!" But the others ignored Hawkbit's sarcasm as they continued to stare open-mouthed at all the buildings, vehicles, and people they passed as they drove along. Fiver, who was poking his nose out the crack in the back window like a dog trying to catch the breeze, sniffed at the smoky London air, "So many new smells here; the only one I recognise is your kind's scent." At that moment, as they braked at a traffic light on London Bridge, a little boy staring out the window of the car beside them, caught sight of Pipkin who grinned back at him, "Hey mum, look! A large bunny! It's Pipkin from Watership Down!"

"Stop talking nonsense Ronnie!" his mother snapped, who was focusing on the traffic light, as her son tugged at her sleeve. But Alan didn't wait until she would turn and take a look; the second the light turned green, he sped off down a side road, away from that car.

By mid-afternoon they reached Drayton Court, which looked as lonely and deserted as Alan had left it ten days ago. After hiding his jeep in an alley to avoid attracting any unwanted attention, he quickly led his friends into the deserted building. A deadly silence filled the stairwell and even Mrs Hanson's basement apartment sounded mysteriously quiet. As Alan approached her front door, he saw something that chilled him to the bones: Taped across the door was an X-sign of yellow tape with the words 'CRIME SCENE; POLICE INVESTIGATION PENDING. DO NOT CROSS!' stamped across it. Undoubtedly, after his disappearance, the terrorists must have come here looking for him and Mrs Hanson had probably been killed for information on his whereabouts.

Feeling depressed, Alan led his companions up the stairs to number 31. As Alan proceeded to unlock his front door, he found someone had already beaten him to it; the door was unlocked, the scratches around the keyhole confirming a break-in. Swinging the door open, he gasped as he saw what had become of his beautiful family home. Apparently, the terrorists had been so determined to recover Miles' disk, but being unable to locate Alan, they had proceeded to ransack his apartment instead, hoping to stumble across their prize.

They entered the living room, the rabbits staring in bewilderment at their first 'man-burrow'. Alan felt his blood boil as he saw that his apartment had been worked on quite extensively. Drawers had been pulled out of their sockets, their contents lying scattered and broken all over the floor. The framed photographs of Alan's ancestors still hung on the walls, some with their glass covers smashed from flying debris. The dresser that held the silverware and china had been forced open and its contents stolen. In the kitchen, all the cupboards and drawers had been turned inside out with all the dishes, glasses, tableware and cutlery lying scattered all around the room.

Entering his study, Alan saw the same mess; the shelves of the bookcase had been pulled down and the books lay scattered across the carpet. The safe that stood bolted into the wall behind the desk had been forced opened and all its contents stolen, including Mary's jewellery box, a leather case that held Alan's gold cufflinks and diamond tiepin, as well as all of his important documents. His Chippendale desk was still there, although the drawers and their contents lay scattered around the room. His computer tower had been placed atop the desk, its cover ripped off and, upon closer inspection he saw the disk drives had been taken. Bending down, he fished out his family album from the mess on the floor. The cover had been crumpled by someone's strong grip and some pages were torn, yet remained mostly intact, all the family pictures still inside.

The bedrooms showed signs of similar ransacking; the master bedroom in particular was a mess with all the contents of the closet scattered all over the floor, along with the mattress, sheets, blankets, and bed curtains, which had been ripped clean off the bed frame. In his daughter's bedroom, Alan saw pretty much the same, except that there had been nothing expensive in there for the vandals to steal or destroy. The only thing left undisturbed was his copy of _Watership Down_, which still lay on his daughter's pillow, undoubtedly having been of little interest to the terrorists.

Meanwhile, an unseen figure, who had been hiding in the elevator cab outside Alan's apartment, was having a heated conversation on his cell phone, "Johnson has returned to his apartment; I just saw him walk in."

"_Right. What about Shaw or Andre? Any sign of them at all?_" asked Sven's voice from the other end, "No sir, nothing. However, Johnson is accompanied by five others…"

"_FIVE OTHERS?" _asked Sven in surprise,_ "Who?"_

"I don't know sir; I couldn't see their faces. They looked like some sort of large dogs, yet I think I could hear them talking…"

"_What are you on about, you halfwit?_" came Sven's furious voice, undoubtedly thinking his lookout was talking nonsense,_ "I told you to ease off a point on the vodka, while you are on duty! All right, get out of there. I am alerting the authorities of Johnson's arrival._" The hooded man exited the elevator and noiselessly, but swiftly, descended the stairs, walked out into the street towards a waiting car and was gone.

Back in the apartment, the six companions were preoccupied with making plans. After Alan had put the lounge in a little order, he and his companions had settled down to plan their first move. Alan placed a street map of the city on the coffee table and started pointing out locations he had marked with a pencil.

"According to Josie, Buxton is hospitalised at St Thomas' Hospital in Stangate. If the timeline remains unchanged, then he most likely won't recover. Nonetheless we aren't taking any chances; as soon as it's dark, we are going to pay him a little sick visit. I will sneak in, dressed as a doctor, locate Buxton's ward and give him an anaesthetic overdose that will kill him, before anyone realises something is wrong. I reckon it will take a couple of hours before they discover the corpse and assume that the man succumbed to his condition and died." Although Bigwig and Hawkbit looked satisfied at the plan, Fiver, Pipkin and even Hazel weren't too keen on the idea, "Alan, that means cold-blooded murder. I understand that it's the man that ordered the deaths of your family, but are you willing to descend to his level, despite what he has done?"

"I don't like it any more than you do Fiver, but it's too risky not to do anything. Don't forget, he is the only one besides us who knows the location of the cores; if he recovers or even survives long enough to pass on the location to any of his henchmen, they will be able to assemble Black Inferno just like Robbins did in the future and our plans will be ruined." The others nodded in understanding as Alan continued outlining the plan.

"After Petrograd is taken care of, we will return to Newtown, to recover the cores and figure out some way to destroy them. Now, to accomplish all this, we will need more weapons and equipment…"

Leading the rabbits into his office, he walked over to a seemingly disused old-fashioned light switch beside the bookcase. Flipping it, the bookcase slid sideways against the wall on a rail fitted into the flooring, revealing the entrance to a secret closet behind the hollow panelling; this was Alan's secret armoury. Despite being an outspoken environmentalist, Alan was still very fond of guns, as well as an experienced user. Throughout his life, he had secretly amassed an arsenal of different weapons and hid them in this locker, in case of an emergency.

A rack held several rifles, each from different eras including a double-barrel shotgun, which had once belonged to Alan's father, a sniper rifle he had stolen during his escape from a Chinese prison camp and a Scorpion assault rifle he had bought on the black market. A sealed metal box contained an ample supply of ammunition for the guns. Another box contained a collection of hand weapons, including Alan's Beretta revolver and even a thermite grenade, which he had illegally salvaged from a war shipwreck in the Channel. In addition, there was a large variety of different knives, including a trench bayonet, an Indian Katar main-gauche dagger, a Swiss Army knife, a machete, a SWAT hand toolkit and more lots more souvenirs of Alan's marine career and his other adventures. Several books stood on another shelf, including a copy of _Wallace's Revised Black Book of Explosives Manufacture_ and a _Survival_1_, Evasion and Recovery Guide_2.

"Frith of Inle!" Hazel gasped, "You have enough of those vile firesticks here to wage war! And I thought that Robbins' weapon was the worst possible human invention." Alan shook his head, "There is nothing wrong with a gun; the owner's _intentions_ should concern you. And I am afraid this is but a drop of water in the vast ocean of weaponry; the human race has developed far more powerful and vile weapons to protect themselves or, like Blackberry said, to meet their own selfish ends. Even Project Black Inferno was reasonably mild compared to other things, such as biochemical or nuclear warfare…But this is not the time to discuss it now. Come on, help me unload this lot!"

They brought the arsenal to the lounge and laid them out all over the coffee table for packing. Using a military backpack, Alan filled it with everything they'd need; his Scorpion rifle, his revolver, the grenade, several different knives, and all the magazines and cartridges he had. He also didn't forget to add a small toolkit containing a screwdriver, panzers, cord, a lock pick and a flashlight. Finally, he included a bottle of hair dye, a roll of duct tape, some spare clothes, a small first aid kit, a pair of walkie-talkies and his notes.

He was just as he was about to announce their departure, when suddenly, a loud knocking on the door, followed by a stern voice, caught them by surprise, "Dr Johnson? This is Scotland Yard; we have a warrant. Open the door!"

Hastily picking up a duvet from the sofa and throwing it over the coffee table, hiding the incriminating arsenal, he whispered to his companions, "Follow me and keep quiet!" Quickly, he ushered them into his office and into the secret closet, which was now empty enough to accommodate the five rabbits, "Everybody in! Keep very quiet and don't move till I get back. If I don't…Never mind, I'll be back shortly." The rabbits looked taken aback, realising what it meant.

"There is still room for you as well…" Bigwig said desperately but Alan shook his head, "The door can't close from the inside. Just trust me; you're in my world now." Although Alan was indeed tempted to try and make a run for it using the fire escape, he had no doubt the whole building was surrounded by the police and was hoping for a chance to reveal Red Hand to the authorities. Maybe if they investigated and confirmed his story, it would save him the trouble of going after Red Hand single-handedly. Quickly sliding the bookcase back into place to hide the entrance to the closet, he picked up a cricket bat in case it was an ambush and hurried back to the door. Looking through the eyehole, he saw a stern-looking man in a black suit, accompanied by a familiar-looking man with Slavic features; it was Sven Shertok, Red Hand's facilitator.

Feeling sick with dread, yet managing to maintain his calm, he put the bat aside and opened the door. The man in the suit flashed a police badge at him, "Inspector Charles Santon, Scotland Yard and Police Deputy Commissioner Sven Shertok," he said, as the other man also flashed a badge, "I presume you are Dr Alan Johnson?"

"That's right detective, what seems to be the problem?" asked Alan casually, while carefully watching Shertok out of the corner of his eye; he could see an evil smile on the man's face, not unlike that of Robbins', indicating that the police's presence here was undoubtedly the work of Red Hand, who must have discovered his return. The inspector cleared his throat and spoke in a stern voice, "Dr Johnson, we have a warrant for your arrest. We are taking you in for questioning regarding the murder of Mrs Emily Hanson and the circumstances surrounding the strange disappearances of Dr Derek Shaw and several other individuals. Now please come along."

"And if I where to say no? Just asking…" replied Alan, although he knew it was no good. Sure enough, the inspector frowned at his cheek, "Well, we have no sense of humour professor. And we are armed, as well as fully authorized to use force if necessary. Now please come along."

Although Alan knew this was definitely a frame job, he had no choice, since the inspector and Shertok were both armed, not to mention that they had backup waiting down in the street. Hastily putting on a jacket, he followed the two men downstairs and into the street, where was forced into a police car and taken him to the local police station.

Ten minutes later, Alan sat handcuffed in an interrogation office facing Inspector Santon, who was listening to his story, while a couple of police officers stood guard outside the door. Alan told him everything about Robbins, Project Black Inferno, the Red Hand Brotherhood and the plot to murder him, as well as the deaths of Derek, Julio and McEwen, naming Robbins as the killer. However, he carefully skipped his journey into the future, certain that it would ruin every chance of the authorities believing him. Although somewhat surprised, the firm-minded inspector still had doubts as to the _validity_ of the story.

"Professor, are you telling me that these disappearances were all part of a plot conducted by a terrorist faction to _murder_ you?" he asked, holding a hand up to his forehead in exasperation.

"Yes, incredible as it sounds, yes," replied Alan, "If you need confirmation, I suggest you check out Derek's work files; he designed the guidance system which was stolen to be used for Black Inferno. There should be some sort of record of the theft…" But the Inspector still remained doubtful as he reached into his briefcase and passed a report across to Alan.

"Do you recognise her?" he asked. Alan nodded as he recognised the photo of Mrs Hanson stapled on the top. "Five days ago, she was found murdered in her apartment. A horrible murder I might add; almost as if Jack the Ripper had come calling." He passed another photograph to Alan. The sight nearly made the professor sick as he saw his housekeeper's naked and mutilated corpse lying strapped to the kitchen table, ghastly knife slashes visible all over her broken body. Apparently, she had been brutally tortured before being killed.

"They pealed her like an onion," muttered Santon grimly, "And…" he continued, showing him a plastic bag with a bloodstained kitchen knife inside it, which Alan recognised as one that had gone missing from his kitchen. "We found it hidden in your apartment with your fingerprints on it, along with the woman's blood. Furthermore, I have a report that this Mr Robbins you speak of wasn't even with you on that day; according to our records, that man died in a car accident last week. Can you explain it?" asked the inspector sharply. Alan was speechless; they had indeed framed him good.

"What about Dr Shaw and the others missing? If they were indeed murdered by Mr Robbins, what happened to the bodies? The police searched the area for your plane but found nothing. Look Professor, unless you can present me with some solid evidence or some witness to support your story, I have no choice but to detain you. And, I might add, there are many people insisting that you are the prime suspect behind all this. If you're put on trial, the odds are seriously against you."

Before Alan could formulate some sort of response however, there was a knock on the door and Shertok entered, "Inspector, the Chief Inspector just called; he wants a word with you before we transport the suspect to Scotland Yard." The inspector stood up, "All right, I am coming. Watch him for a few minutes until I get back." He left the room, handing Shertok the key to Alan's cuffs. The professor saw Shertok's evil sneer and realised what it meant. Sure enough, as soon as Santon had gone, Shertok closed the door and locked it, not taking his eyes off Alan.

"Now then professor, time for a little chit-chat. So, how did you find out? Did that blubbering idiot Robbins let something slip or did you have an outside informant?" he asked, confirming that Sven Shertok was indeed working for Red Hand. Alan, his mind working furiously on a way to escape, answered coolly, "I am not the only one that knows what you and your buddies are up to Sven," he said, emphasising the name, as if it was something repulsive. The corrupt police officer chuckled cruelly, "I thought as much. That's why I am about to offer you a little deal." He reached in his pocket and took out a syringe with a clear liquid inside, marked with a biohazard sign, "Know what this is, Professor?"

"Vaccine for Myxomatosis?" suggested Alan mockingly, despite the seriousness of his situation. Sven frowned at Alan's sense of humour, "Agent Neuron is a remarkable nerve agent, capable of causing a painful death, but without leaving any traces. The victims' death certificates would only register death by shock. And that's the fate that awaits you, unless you tell me the whereabouts of Shaw, Andre, and Drake, or whoever is your informant." Alan narrowed his eyes, _My old colleague Cole Drake? What does he have to do with anything?_ he thought. Hiding his surprise, he turned back to Sven.

"You think I am likely to sell them out to you? You'll just kill me anyway and then kill them too." Sven sneered, in a manner that resembled Vervain, "Then, I guess you'd rather choose the hard way. No matter, we have other ways of sniffing out rats." He walked over at Alan and grabbed hold of the chain of his cuffs with one hand and brought the syringe close to him with the other, "A murder in the police station will be traced right back to you," Sven only laughed nastily.

"This won't look like murder doc. With your dear brother-in-law Mr Millard, it simply looked like heart failure; a forged death certificate made sure no autopsy was performed. In your case, it will simply look like a heart attack triggered as a result of your guilt…or maybe your desperation to escape punishment!" he sneered evilly, about to deliver the fatal blow. But Alan, who had been patiently waiting for Shertok to get in a vulnerable position, suddenly head-butted the man in the face. Sven staggered backwards, groaning. In one swift move, Alan had leapt from his chair and grabbed Shertok by the neck, using the handcuffs as a strangulation cord. Before Shertok could shout for help, he clamped a hand over the man's mouth and with the other, performed the Vulcan Sleeper Hold he had used on Vervain back in Efrafa. Sven groaned, his shouts muffled by Alan's hand, before crumpling to the floor unconscious.

Without wasting time, Alan took the key from Sven's pocket and unlocked his cuffs. Quickly, he proceeded to strip Shertok off his uniform, while keeping his ears open, in case the inspector came back. After swapping clothes with him, he seated the unconscious Sven at the table and handcuffed him to the chair, his hands behind his back and even placed a gag in his mouth to keep him quiet.

He was about to leave, when he spotted the nerve agent syringe lying on the floor. Bending down, he picked it up with a handkerchief and turned to Shertok. For an instant, he was tempted to use the lethal serum on him, in revenge for what had happened to Miles and to prevent him from aiding Hemlock in the future. However, Fiver's voice echoed in his mind, "_Are you willing to descent to his level?_" Despite his urge to kill the man before him, cold-blooded murder or not, his respect for his little friend's grace won out. _Besides_, he thought, _this thing might come in useful later_. Pocketing the syringe, he exited the office and made his way to the exit, keeping Sven's hat low, to cover his face.

To his great fortune, he encountered no trouble as he passed other police officers, all of which mistook him for Sven. Soon he was out of the station, where he broke into a fast pace, heading for the nearest tube station, to return to his apartment, carefully looking around him every few seconds, to ensure he wasn't being followed.

Meanwhile, Inspector Santon returned to the office and found Sven, bound and gagged, wearing Johnson's clothes. "What the hell happened in here?" he bellowed, removing the gag so Sven could talk.

"I came to question him further on the matter and he…" Shertok groaned, nursing the bruise on his neck, but Santon cut him off as he unfastened the cuffs with a spare key, "I don't care _how_ he escaped. Get on that phone and alert all officers in the vicinity, so they can round him up!" he bellowed, rushing out of the office. Sven picked up the phone, but not to alert the rest of the police; instead he dialled the cell phone number of one of his Red Hand associates, "The framing scheme has failed; Johnson escaped and is on the run. Proceed to Plan B."

"_Sir, I think we have another problem here. Shelton had just been informed that something has happened to Sergey…"_

Alan returned to Drayton Court and cautiously entered the building, expecting an ambush from other Red Hand members or the police; to his good fortune, he met no one. Cautiously, he mounted the stairs to his apartment, finding it just as he had left it an hour ago. He hurried to his office, praying that Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig, Pipkin and Hawkbit hadn't been discovered.

"Hazel! Bigwig! Pipkin! Fiver! Hawkbit! Are you in there?" he called, as he pulled the secret closet open. He sighed with relief, when he saw all five of them just where he had left them, looking worried, but otherwise unharmed. Bigwig, recovering first from the relief of seeing him return safely, stepped out, "What was all that about?"

"As I feared, those dudes have planned it all well; since they couldn't find me, they prepared this reception should I ever return. I tried explaining to the police - the _human Owsla_ that is - but they didn't believe me. That guy Shertok even tried to kill me while in custody and I barely managed to escape. I have been declared a fugitive now for supposedly murdering my housekeeper, escaping custody, and for the disappearance of Derek and the others. We have to set our plan in motion at once, before it's too late. Come on, let's get moving; the police will be back here any minute now, looking for me."

Picking up his weapons' arsenal, Alan and his group of five departed Drayton Court, shortly before the police returned, embarking on their mission to change the future.

Author's note: Now Alan is a fugitive. Things are getting ugly…Coming up next, a rabbit-human raid at the hospital, as well as an interesting surprise regarding Mr Buxton... Enjoy and please review!

1 Manual on the manufacture of explosives

2 Military survival and strategy guide used in the United States Army


	32. Chapter 32 Trojan Horse Operation

Sergey Petrograd, who led a double life as the wealthy businessman Joseph Buxton, had been hospitalised a week ago, after suffering a near fatal heart attack. As predicted by his cardiologist, his heart condition would worsen with age, just like it had done with all his relatives, since the problem run in the family genome. Sergey often cursed himself for not being 20 years younger, when he could have had a pacemaker implant, like his son, rather than being forced to live dependant on medication.

Despite the good news that Johnson and Shaw had died in a plane accident, Sergey still felt uneasy for his safety. This heart attack had been the first in a long time that had landed him in hospital. For over thirty years, he had always carried his nitro pills on him, to prevent such an incident; only the last time he took one, it didn't work and his heart had nearly failed. If it hadn't been for Tom Shelton, it would have been his doomsday; he had had a very narrow escape and he knew it. The realisation that his pills had been a dud medication had alarmed him even further. The only explanation was an assassination attempt conducted by an outside party. And there was only one likely candidate that could have improvised such a cunning scheme…

His son, Cole Drake, who used his mother's surname to avoid any association with the legendary terrorist, was a leading scientist in biogenetics and highly ambitious. However, he was a great disappointment to his old man, since he refused to support his father in his plans of altering the balance of power through global terrorism. Despite that, on occasion, with a bit of persuasion of course, his son could still be useful to him.

After that snoop Millard had been tracked down and killed, but had succeeded in passing on the evidence to his sister beforehand, Drake had become the appropriate instrument to solving the problem. Since his brother-in-law was Drake's closest colleague, Sergey had had a perfect advantage. A threat to the lives of Drake's family was enough to coax his son into luring the Johnsons into a death trap. Although his hitman Robbins succeeded in eliminating the professor's family, Johnson and his sidekick Shaw had survived, forcing Sergey to take more drastic measures. After kidnapping his son's family and threatening their lives if he refused to cooperate, he had ordered his son to unanimously deliver a forged letter to Derek Shaw who would unknowingly pass it on to Johnson, who was refusing to open mail or answer calls while succumbing to his misery from the deaths of his wife and daughter.

The plan had gone well, until the mysterious and completely inexplicable disappearance of the two targets and the intended assassin. Although Sergey felt positive that Robbins had succeeded in killing Johnson and Shaw but had died in the attempt, this inexplicable disappearance continued to trouble him. Suspecting foul play, he had met up with his son and reminded him of the consequences if he had double-crossed him. Sergey's near-fatal heart attack had followed soon after, making it obvious that Drake had carried out his threat to stand up to his father. There was no doubt his traitorous son had been the mastermind behind this little scheme, hoping to save his family and avenge his colleague…

As Sergey drifted off to sleep, waiting for his strength to return, his mind was set on finding and killing his son the moment he recovered, something he should have done years ago. His henchmen had finished cleaning up Johnson and Shaw's homes, having retrieved all possible incriminating evidence, except Millard's disk. On Shelton or Shertok's next visit, when he would be strong enough to talk, he would reveal to them the location of the cores and also order the deaths of the Drakes. If his softhearted son wanted to go the same way as Johnson, then so be it. Project Black Inferno would then continue on schedule with no more loose ends to stall him...

Suddenly, in his sleep, Sergey moaned and his breathing became laboured; his heart was failing again, this time permanently. His pulse chart on the screen dipped and eventually threaded out. A faint buzzer sounded, warning that the patient's vital functions were nil. Some time later, a nurse entered with the lunch tray, only to discover her patient, who had been making rapid progress, now lay inexplicably dead, poisoned by a false serum planted in his IV drip…

A few hours later, in the deserted parking lot of St Thomas' Hospital, a jeep stood parked in the shadows, with its driver and passengers deep in conversation within the privacy of the vehicle. Alan had drawn all the window shades and dimmed the cabin lights to hide them from surveillance cameras, which could otherwise attract unwanted attention to themselves.

"Right, the time has come. Now, I can't risk taking you inside with me; you'd attract too much attention in a crowded hospital. So I need you to cover my back from here; I have parked on a spot with a clear view of the visitor's entrance, so you can watch out for any unwelcome arrivals." He pointed at a working walkie-talkie he had clipped to the dashboard, "That will allow us to speak to each other while I am inside; I have set it to open audition mode so all you have to do is speak to it and I'll hear you and answer back. Should one of you see anything unusual, particularly anybody dressed in a uniform similar to mine, go in, just speak up and I will hear it. Not too loud mind you; I've set it so a whisper will suffice. Any questions?"

They all shook their heads and Alan replied, "Outstanding. All right, show time!" He got out of the jeep and headed towards the visitors' entrance, keeping his hat low to hide his face. As part of the plan, before arriving at the hospital, he had taken a detour at a public bath room where he had dyed his hair brown to match Shertok's and had even doctored the man's I.D. card, which he had found in the pocket of his uniform, by adding a passport-sized photograph of himself (with brown hair), effectively assuming the corrupt policeman's identity, which would grant him easier access to restricted areas. Walking up to the inquiries desk, he met a stern-faced woman, "Good evening ma'am. Is a Mr Joseph Buxton hospitalised here?"

"Yes officer, is there a problem?" asked the woman suspiciously, "I was hoping if I could have a word with him, please?" asked Alan, trying his best to use what he hoped was a stern police-like tone in his voice.

"Sorry officer, but he is not to be disturbed at the moment. Hospital policy. Unless you have some special permit?"

"No ma'am, I don't have any permit. However, I would be obliged if you could put this in his box, so he'll contact me when he can. He handed the woman one of Sven's call cards, As she walked away to place it in the man's letterbox, Alan hastily typed Buxton's name in the computer registry and it brought up the room number: 'WARD 713, 13th FLOOR, PRIVATE'.

Hurrying away before the receptionist would return, he took the elevator to the 13th floor. As he walked down the corridor towards Buxton's ward, he kept his eyes open in case someone was following him. However he encountered no trouble as he approached Ward 713, which had a 'Don't Disturb' sign on the door. Ignoring it, he entered, closing the door behind him and locking it. He was standing in a luxurious hospital ward, with linen curtains, green carpeting, and elegant light fixtures. At the far end of the room was a bed with a set of transparent drapes surrounding it. An untouched lunch tray stood on a trolley at the foot of the bed.

"Funny…" thought Alan, "why isn't there any cardiograph machine monitoring his vitals?" Carefully, he drew the drapes aside, Sven's neurotoxin syringe clutched in his hand as he prepared to stab Sergey through the heart with it. However, instead of finding a semiconscious patient, as he had expected, he saw a rough bed sheet completely covering the bed's occupant from view. He gently pulled away the sheet, revealing the pale and motionless face of a fat old man in his late seventies, staring back at him with vacant eyes. Having had plenty of past experience, Alan could easily tell a corpse from a living man. Sergey Petrograd, aka Joseph Buxton, lay dead on the bed before him.

"Suicide?" thought Alan in surprise as he turned to sniff at a jug of water on the bedside table and took a bite of the lunch, but couldn't detect any poison in either. Picking up the patient's chart, he read the doctor's report, '_Death by drug complication, caused a by mixture of Benazepril and Benadryl_'. Alan frowned in realisation.

"So, does this mean there was _another_ outside party that wanted him dead? Even a chemist knows better than to mix those two drugs together, let alone a doctor," thought Alan, slowly piecing everything together. So if Sergey had died this way in the original timeline, then who could the secret assassin be? Surely not someone in the police force, since Santon and the others had been oblivious to Alan's claims. As he put the clipboard down, he saw a mysterious stack of papers lying on the bedside table. Curious, he picked them up and his heart nearly jumped into his lungs as he recognised his late brother-in-law's handwriting on the crumpled sheet of paper.

The first document was a letter to Mary, which, for some mysterious reason, she had obviously kept a secret from him. Forgetting that he was trespassing in the ward of a dead man and could be discovered at any moment, Alan took a seat and read aloud:

'_Dear Mary, _

_I know it has been a long time since we last talked and that I have been a total arse to you since your wedding, but now I desperately need your help. Please don't reveal any of the information I am entrusting to you in this letter to anyone, not even Alan, for this is a matter of life or death. _

_A few days ago, while updating some accounting formats in the ministry's database, I stumbled across a junked file regarding an anonymous investment in foreign bonds, along with some suspicious details on the purchase of nuclear weapons from abroad. Since no such purchase had been authorised, I suspected foul play. When I notified my superiors of my discovery, they attempted to inspect that record themselves, only to discover it had been erased from the database; the only remaining copy is on the disk I have enclosed with this letter. _

_Since the mole is undoubtedly taking steps to cover his tracks, it is likely he will come after me before the hearing. Thus, I am taking my own steps to protect my discovery: I have made arrangements to have this disk picked up by a trusted messenger, after you've read this letter (he will contact you in due course); I am entrusting it to your care, under oath of absolute secrecy, so, in the event that something happens to me before I can testify in court, there will be an echo of the past still out there. _

_Farewell dear sister and please forgive me for negating you and your family. I wish I could have been a more lovable uncle to Lucy and faithful brother-in-law to Alan._

_Your brother, _

_Miles. _

_P.S. Burn this letter after you read it and don't reply, in case my phone and mail are being monitored._'

Alan was in shock. So this was how he and his family had been dragged into this mess. As Robbins had said, Miles had stumbled across some incriminating evidence that would expose Red Hand and had come at great lengths to reveal it to the authorities. However, because of his lack of judgement concerning the risks involved, he had landed himself as well as Alan and his family in a fiery pit. Mary, who had always felt guilty about her brother turning away from her because of her marriage to someone he disliked, had probably acted out of faith and kept the secret from Alan. However, she too had underestimated the danger and had become another victim of this wild goose chase along with Lucy, who had been caught in the crossfire. That only left Alan as the remaining loose end.

Picking up the next document, he immediately recognised the forged contract Robbins had sent to him through Derek, hoping to lure him into a death trap. His blood boiled as he stared at Robbins' signature on the bottom line, remembering the confrontation in the graveyard and Robbins's confession of the plot to kill him, after Red Hand had suspected him of knowing about Mile's discovery. The third item was more interesting.

It was a cutting from the _Times_, the page where the list of last week's funerals was printed. He immediately noticed that his own funeral along with those of Derek's and Robbins' were circled and marked with a small inscription in Russian, probably Sergey's own handwriting. Although Alan couldn't read Russian, he knew what this was all about: Sergey, fearing death, had left behind a message with the location of the cores, which were now buried in Newtown churchyard. Picking up the forth and final item, he saw it was a photograph of two people seated outside a pub, staring at each other and deep in conversation, apparently unaware of the photographer.

As Alan held the picture under a lamp to recognise the two figures, what he saw nearly took his breath away: the two people in the photograph were no other that his wife and his missing colleague, Dr Cole Drake himself. In the background he could see the entrance to a pub that looked vaguely familiar… As he flipped the photograph over, he saw an inscription printed on the back: _'Country pub 'Eagle' beside the churchyard in the village of Kingsclere, near Watership Down'_.

Alan stared dumbstruck at the photograph for several minutes. If it wasn't a fake, then a big piece of the puzzle had just clicked into place: his wife had foolishly been entrusted with a dangerous secret that came with a death warrant. Mary, out of loyalty for her brother and desperate for an attempt to make up to him, had assumed responsibility of the evidence but had been seen by this unknown photographer, who had been following either her or Drake, sealing her doom. But something still didn't make sense; why should she go to _Drake_ of all people? What did _he_ have to do with all this business? Then he remembered something else: Drake had invited them to his home in Ecchiswell, the very day of his wife's murder; this, combined with the photograph of him and his wife meeting in private, spelled out only one thing: _Drake had betrayed him and his family to Red Hand!_

"That's it!" he thought, as sick realisation hit him, "_He_ is the connection! So that's why he took off that night I got Robbins' letter. He is yet another spy for Red Hand!" But then he realised, there was yet another gap in the puzzle; according to Miles' letter, Drake was his _trustee_; why would Miles entrust _him_, a complete stranger, with such a dangerous secret? Could this have anything to do with Sergey's mysterious death?

At that moment, Alan's thoughts were interrupted as he heard the voices of his friends over the radio, _"Alan, get out of there! It is one of those fellows that came to arrest you!"_ Before Alan could answer, he heard someone try to open the door to the ward, followed by a fiddling of keys.

Hastily picking up the papers, he stepped into the wardrobe, leaving the door slightly ajar, so he could see what was going on. He heard the door open and a nurse came in, followed by two men, one of whom he recognised as Shertok, who was now wearing a new uniform. Accompanying him was non other than Tom Shelton, who had apparently been the one to inform Red Hand of his return.

The pair approached Sergey's bed and stared at the covered-up corpse of their leader. The nurse addressed the two visitors, "He died this afternoon, after an accident involving a lethal drug mixture. It is unthinkable how our nurses could make such a mistake. My condolences for your friend gentlemen. However, I will have to ask you to leave soon, so we can prepare the body for the morgue. I suggest you come down to the manager's office, to sign some paperwork on the disposal of his belongings." Tom interrupted, "Can you give us a few minutes of privacy with him, please?" The woman nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

Now that they were alone, Tom turned to Sven, "How did this happen? They said he was definitely on the road to recovery. Do you suppose Johnson has something to do with this? Perhaps he somehow managed to force Robbins to reveal everything and decided to take matters into his own hands?"

"Doubt it," replied Sven. "A man like Sergey Petrograd wouldn't entrust any secrets of the project to anyone who wasn't completely trustworthy. And we know Robbins isn't the sort you can force into talking. No, Johnson must have another outside informant…" As Alan listened in, he realised something else: "So that's what Shertok was talking about; they suspect Drake of _aiding me_. So he _was_ working for Red Hand. Or wasn't he?"

As he carefully watched the two men, he noticed with sick dread that, in his hastiness to hide, he had accidentally dropped the newspaper clipping on the floor. He silently cursed as he saw Shelton step on it, before the man bent down and picked it up curiously. He turned it over, checking it and his eyes fell on Sergey's marking. He showed it to Shertok.

"What do you make of this? I recognise Sergey's handwriting but has he written down here? What's so important about Johnson's funeral?" Shertok shook his head, "Beats me, perhaps he was saving that clipping as a memento like Samir keeps his stuffed human trophies back at headquarters. Wish I knew Russian; I've got a Russian name and ancestry, yet I can't read the damn language! When we return to headquarters, one of the lads can translate it for us." Hearing this, Alan sighed with relief; for now, the location of the cores remained a secret and Project Black Inferno remained useless. But it was only a matter of time before they showed, what they considered to be a murder memento, to a Russian reader and discover that their late boss had left behind a secret treasure map.

"Come on, we've got big fish to fry. With Sergey dead, the location of the cores has probably died with him. If we can't figure out that location ourselves, Project Black Inferno will be cast on the junk pile and then we'll be screwed." Fuming, the two men left the ward and Alan heard the door close behind them. Carefully making sure that they were gone, he got out of the closet and headed for the door, taking the rest of the evidence with him.

Soon he was back in the safety of his jeep with his long-eared friends, finding them all waiting for him, looking worried but overjoyed to see him. They left the hospital, and Alan made for their only remaining place of refuge; Derek's home in Hammersmith. Since the two of them had been close like brothers, Alan knew where Derek had a spare key hidden in a drainpipe in the garden. Finding it undisturbed, he unlocked the front door and led his five friends to the safety of his late friend's house.

Just like with his own home, Derek's home had also been ransacked by Red Hand thugs hoping to locate Mile's disk. Drawers stood open, various accessories lay scattered on the floor and most pieces of furniture had been overturned or broken. The only thing left undisturbed was the sparkling Christmas tree in the living room. After Alan had found some food for them, they made themselves comfortable in the living room as he told them what had happened at the hospital. How he had found Sergey dead, apparently murdered, Miles' letter, Drake's connection to Red Hand and everything he had overheard from Shelton and Shertok. The rabbits were surprised at this latest development.

"But why didn't they tell you he was dead? Do you suppose it was a trap? Maybe they are following us?" asked Hawkbit, as they helped themselves to a large bowl of fruit and vegetables Alan had found leftover in Derek's fridge. The man rolled his eyes, "Hospitals rarely discuss with strangers how many corpses they have lying around."

"So, that settles it, doesn't it? Their leader is dead, so it's over, right?" asked Bigwig, as he took a bite out of an apple, "Now, we just have to get back to our own time." But Alan shook his head, "I am afraid, we have only just started. Until we destroy the missile and the cores, we have no chance of altering the future. As long as the means that Robbins used to destroy your world still exist, our friends will remain dead. And we have to move fast; it's only a matter of time before someone deciphers Petrograd's message. If we are to maintain the upper hand, we shall have to recover the cores tonight…"

"So that means we have to go back to that ithe burial site, doesn't it?" asked Hazel, looking rather uneasy. Alan couldn't blame him. The last time they had been there, Robbins had nearly slit his throat open, not to mention nearly having shot Alan through the heart. Hawkbit in particular, didn't seem too keen on the plan, remembering how Robbins had nearly snapped his neck, while using him as a hostage.

"Go back to that place, that's pretty much the layer of the Black Rabbit, while we have the entire human Owsla hunting us down? Haven't we had our share of close shaves already? Shouldn't we start thinking on how we are going to get out of this nightmare of a world and return home?" he groaned.

"You maggot-brained weevil!" snapped Bigwig, annoyed at Hawkbit's lack of foresight, "Our world will not even exist until we're done! There is no question of trying to get back until we've finished what we came here for. Just get that into your thick skull!"

"Bigwig is right Hawkbit," said Fiver, in a more sympathetic tone, "Our survival is only something we can _hope for_ after we have accomplished our mission. If we are to die, at least we can ensure our world will live on." The others stared at Fiver's courage, tucked under his usually skittish nature.

After gathering some digging tools from Derek's shed, to exhume the cores at Newtown Churchyard, Alan announced their departure. Bigwig paused for a moment as he nicked an onion that lay on Derek's kitchen table and swallowed it in one gulp, possibly eager to top up his caloric needs in preparation for a rough night. As Alan dragged an excited Pipkin away, who was so fascinated by the 'world of men' and playing with the decorations on Derek's Christmas tree, he noticed a notebook lying on the floor.

Picking it up, he saw it was a lab journal, containing notes and diagrams on engineering projects his late friend had worked on in the past, including the guidance system used for Project Black Inferno.

Alan remembered a similar notebook he kept himself, in his case on biological projects he and Drake had worked on in the past, including one of the creation of a perfect ecosystem, curiously similar to the one he had seen in the future. Then it hit him; in the original timeline, Drake must have come into possession of his work after he disappeared and, combining it with his own research on genetics, had used it as a blueprint for the future ecosystem. Remembering that Drake had apparently betrayed him aroused Alan's suspicions.

_Could he have been after my work all along? But then, why didn't he claim it as his own after I was gone?_ he thought, remembering the conversation with the AI image of El-ahrairah in the HAB, who claimed Drake had created the new world to honour his memory. Alan felt a frightful pain in his temple at trying to figure out this riddle. Their next step, he reasoned, after the cores were found and disposed of, would be to track down Drake and find out _exactly_ what was his connection to all this business.

Author's note: The events of the original timeline are unfolding…Sergey died this way and took his secret to the grave with him. As a result, the Red Hand Brotherhood aborted. Coming up next, the recovery of the cores. Enjoy and please review!


	33. Chapter 33 On the Run

It was nearly nightfall as Alan and his long-eared friends descended into the alleyway behind Derek's house, where his jeep was hidden. After loading up the equipment, they were ready to depart, when Alan suddenly discovered a problem, "What the hell? What's wrong with this thing?" he said, as he tried to start up but got no response from the engine. Getting out of the jeep, he opened the bonnet to check the engine; it didn't take him long to discover that the battery cable had been disconnected, "What the hell? Who did this…?"

"I believe that would be _me_ Johnson," sneered an evil voice from behind him. Alan turned, only to come face to face with a masked terrorist, poking his head out of a nearby garbage can and aiming a silent gun at him, his own gun lying in the car and out of reach when he needed it the most. He could see the man's evil eyes gleaming triumphantly through the slit in the hood, "Keep your hands up and start marching doc; my boss will be ever so pleased to see you. You have caused him enough trouble today…"

But before Alan could start walking however, a large furry body suddenly leapt off the roof of the jeep, sailing over Alan's head and falling upon the unsuspecting terrorist; Bigwig, realising there was trouble and having the element of surprise from the open bonnet keeping them hidden from view, had crept out of the car, climbed up onto the roof and pounced on the terrorist. Alan was about to join in the struggle when suddenly, another voice called, "Hold it right there, Dr Johnson!" They turned and saw a policeman standing at the end of the alley, aiming his gun at Alan; just like the terrorist, the policeman had recognised Alan's licence plates and had been waiting for his return.

But in this second of distraction, the terrorist managed to recover his gun and turned it on the interrupting policeman, firing several shots that found the man straight in the torso. He then turned his gun on Alan and Bigwig, "Looks like you and your furry friend aren't getting so lucky after all…"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Suddenly, another round of gunfire was heard and the terrorist crumpled to the ground dead; the policeman, who had been mortally injured but not killed, had recovered enough to take aim and shoot the terrorist dead. Kicking the gun out of the terrorist's limp hand, Alan rushed over to the injured man; although miraculously still alive, despite having taken several bullets, the man was in critical condition, on the brink of death. Quickly taking the man's radio, Alan sent a call for help, "Officer down! Send an ambulance!" After giving the radioman on the other end Derek's address and giving the dying man a towel to hold over his wounds until help arrived, the six companions got into the jeep and departed, heading for Newtown Common, to recover the cores. Little did they know, the dead terrorist had planted a live bomb in the glove compartment, counting down from just under 6 hours…

The moon was high in the sky by the time they reached Newtown Common Churchyard, several hours later. Snowflakes fell silently over the headstones scattered around the deserted churchyard, giving the place a haunted appearance. Alan's jeep came to a halt just outside the locked gate, the passengers staring at the deathly silence that filled the place, "All right chaps, time to go 'fishing' among the graves."

After picking the lock on the gate, they entered, heading towards the three false graves where Sergey had buried his precious shipment. Alan felt his heart sink as he saw Derek's 'false' headstone, which ironically now really stood in memory of his dead friend. But there was no time to dwell on that now, for they had a much more important task at hand and very little time to finish it.

"All right, let's get started; split up into three groups and pick a grave. The sooner we are out of here, the better." Hawkbit groaned at the prospect of having to dig again, but Bigwig's slit-eyed stare, instantly got him on his forepaws working, while sulking of having to do more 'doe's work'. While the rabbits worked on the first two graves, Alan took the third, using the tools from Derek's house. An hour later, all three coffins had been dug up.

"This is it!" Forcing them open, Alan found what he had expected: stored inside were the three brass cases, each containing a nuclear core for Project Black Inferno. In Robbins' coffin, Alan also found a small leather box containing the key that activated the cores and satellite probe; everything was exactly as they had found them in the future. He chuckled in satisfaction; they had beaten Red Hand to their precious shipment. Although the main satellite unit was still in the hands of Red Hand, now it was useless without the key and cores, which were meant to power the satellite's impulse gun. Their primary objective was complete.

Not wasting any time, they removed the three cores from their cases and loaded them onto Alan's jeep and covered them with a strip of canvas, keeping them out of sight from any prying eyes. Unfortunately they didn't realise that the cores had an in-built tracking beacon that was traceable via satellite. Now that the cores where above ground, that silent tracking signal was on the air on an open frequency…

Not too far away, at Sutch and Martin's Flight Club outside Sandleford Park, Tom Shelton sat sulking at his desk, helping himself to a bottle of Scotch to drown his sorrows. For many years, Shelton had had many financial struggles as a result of his gambling, placing him heavily in debt. During the war, he had been drafted as a radioman in the Royal Air Forces, hoping to earn a decent war pension to pay off his debts. Unfortunately, although England and its allies had won the war, the global economy had been so badly hit, that all war pensions had been withheld. Shelton had returned to the same life he had left, still heavily in debt and hardly able to even support himself anymore. Then, last year he had met Sven Shertok while attempting to commit suicide when his debts had been called in. Shertok had been something like a saviour to him, when he had offered him a job as a spy for Sergey, with a promise of generous rewards to pay off all of his debts.

Although at first he had been uneasy at doing criminal work, Shelton realised that his cooperation would earn him a fortune beyond his wildest dreams, so he had agreed. And his decision had indeed paid off; in the past year his debts were finally lifting off his shoulders and his bank balance was rising again. But now, everything had fallen apart for him again: Sergey was dead, Johnson was alive and still at large and Project Black Inferno had been rendered useless because of the missing cores. Now, it was only a matter of time before Johnson would find some evidence to prove his innocence and, consequently deliver the names of many Red Hand members to the authorities, including Shelton. If that came to pass, his life would be ruined; either he would spend the rest of his life as a fugitive or rotting in prison.

Cursing himself for his unfair predicament, he punched one of the control panels in rage, accidentally activating the radar screen. As he sat down, trying to calm himself, so he could think clearly, he heard the beeping noise of a beacon signal coming from the radar. As he turned to look at it, the identification number nearly took his breath away; it was the signal that Sergey had told them about, the one transmitted from the cores' locator beacon!

Putting aside all thoughts of his predicament, an excited Tom Shelton seized the phone and dialled Sven's private line, "Someone has found the cores; I am picking up the tracking signal. Project Black Inferno is a go. I repeat, Black Inferno is a go!"

"_Well, no shit, Shelton!"_ came Sven's delighted voice who, curiously, also seemed to be on the verge of celebration, _"I have just had Sergey's note translated; the cores are buried at Newtown Common Churchyard in Johnson and Shaw's graves!"_

Having secured the cores, Alan proceeded to set up to decoy to fool Robbins, when he would attempt to unearth the cores in the future. Each of the empty cases was filled with gravel from the sidewalk, intent on tricking anyone who held it, that there was a 100lbs nuclear core still sealed inside it, before sealing them tight. They placed them back into the coffins and those back into the graves where they had found them and filled them up again, covering up all traces of their visit. However, with their delay to fill up the graves, they didn't notice a figure sneak into the church and ascend into the bell tower, where he had a clear shot of the group below. The man spoke into his radio.

"This is Carl. I got them in my sight. Shelton was right; it looks like they've found the cores buried in their own graves."

"_Good. Fry the bastards,"_ answered Sven's voice. The man raised a flamethrower and took aim. A jet of burning benzene flew from the nozzle, straight towards the group. But Alan, who had noticed Fiver start to whimper from sensing danger, turned and spotted the assassin up in the bell tower. In a flash, he drew his revolver and fired in the direction of their attacker, as he and his friends ducked behind tombstones to avoid being incinerated alive.

He heard a scream and next second, the bell tower burst into flame, as Alan's bullet had struck the flamethrower fuel tank. The assassin screamed in agony as his whole body was suddenly engulfed in flames, before he fell from the bell tower, plummeting to his death below. With a sickening crack, his spine shattered on a tombstone ands sizzling corpse crumpled on the snow. Alan picked up the man's fallen radio and heard Shertok's voice calling, _"Carl, what the hell is going on? Did you get them? Carl!"_

"I am so sorry," replied Alan, in a mock-like voice, "Your friend Carl is unavailable at the moment. He decided to throw a deathbed barbecue. Please leave a message after the beep!" Ignoring Sven's cursing at his henchman's failure, Alan turned to his companions.

"Come on, we have to get out of here fast; those cowboys probably have reinforcements already on their way here." Not wasting any time, they pilled into Alan's jeep and were gone, taking the cores with them. Although recovering the cores had been an enormous success, they still had to find a way to destroy them, not to mention the satellite probe still in Red Hand's possession. To alter the events of the future-yet-to-come, the cores, the satellite and the Red Hand Brotherhood, all had to be eliminated completely.

"Now we've got to find some way to dispose of these things, so that they will never be found by anybody. After that's done, we shall have to go after Project Black Inferno and destroy it as well, so it can never be used by Robbins in the future. We still have a long way to go I am afraid; however, so far we are doing well. Things are finally looking up for a change."

Not too far away, on the outskirts of Kingsclere, snipers had taken up positions on either side of the road, preparing a reception for Alan and his friends. After receiving Shelton's call, Sven had ordered his henchmen to prepare an ambush for the approaching jeep, while Shelton kept monitoring the core's tracking signal on radar, reporting the jeep's heading to Sven over the radio.

"Alright gentlemen, you know the plan," said Sven on his radio that was set to a frequency, so that all his shooters could hear him. "Johnson will be coming this way any moment now, along with our precious shipment; I have sent another team to chase him straight in this direction. Once you have him in sight, I want to see his blood splattered all over the road. However, be careful you don't blow up the jeep, until we have retrieved our valuables." The mercenaries took up their positions, their revolvers and sniper rifles at the ready.

As Alan drove along the road that led to Kingsclere, he kept thinking about the next logical course of action. What should he do with the cores? Although the logical solution would be to turn them in to the authorities immediately, Alan felt that just wasn't the right way. If there was the risk of being assassinated while in police custody, then how could the cores be in any safer hands there? Shertok was undoubtedly one of many undercover Red Hand members stationed in the right places. And even if the cores could help clear his name, the possibility of them falling back into the hands of Red Hand, was a risk not worth taking.

Although he knew he would have to explain to the authorities about this soon or later, for now the cores had to hidden somewhere non-traceable. And the only place he could think of was Nuthanger Farm. That place was abandoned and falling into ruin, reducing the possibility of discovery. Although hardly the best of choices, it was their best bet; all other places in the vicinity were easily accessible and the possibility of someone stumbling across the cores by accident was too great to risk…

POP!

Suddenly, as they were nearing Kingsclere, a loud hissing noise was heard from the right side of the jeep and then Alan felt the steering wheel start to grow heavy, "Oh drat, perfect time to get a flat…" Sure enough, staring out his window, he saw that they indeed had a flat tyre; the rim of the forward wheel was riding on the flattened tyre thread, which had been punctured by some sharp fragment that had been lying on the road, resulting in a tyre blowout. Pulling over onto the side, he turned to his companions, "We shall have to do this quick or we continue on foot." They all disembarked and gathered around, staring at the flat tyre,

"So how do we heal a hrududu?" asked Pipkin, causing Alan to burst out laughing, "You don't _heal_ an automobile Pipkin; you _repair_ it. In this case, we just have to replace the tyre. Piece of cake. Now let's have a look here…" he said as he opened a locker under the boot, which housed the vehicle's tyre servicing kit. "All right, you guys get these tools up front while I fetch the spare," he said, passing the jack to Bigwig and the wheel brace to Hawkbit; both rabbits groaned from the weight and foul taste of the steel tools in their mouths as they carried them up front, while Alan unpacked the spare wheel and rolled it out of its housing. Placing the jack in position, he wound it up, lifting the tilted edge of the vehicle off the ground and then started undoing the nut bolts of the damaged wheel, while the rabbits watched on with interest.

Just as he had finished removing the wheel, the sound of approaching traffic was heard in the distance. They turned and saw a heavy truck approaching them at full speed, without slowing down. It was coming straight towards them as if about to ram them! Alan cursed, "Damn, it's them again! They've found us! We have to get out of here fast!" Doubling his efforts, he fitted the spare and tightened the bolts back in place, "All right, everybody in!"

Discarding the flat tyre and the tools, they pilled back into the jeep, started it up, and managed to speed away a mere second before the approaching truck caught up with them. Staring in the overhead mirror, Alan saw the truck hit the discarded wheel they had left behind on the road, causing it to skid sideways and into a ditch. For the moment they were safe. But not for long…

Suddenly, as they drove through a patch of forest, Alan noticed Pipkin start to act funny; he seemed to be chasing something in the back, excitedly jumping here and there on the seat, like a cat after a length of string. "What are you up to back there, laddie?" he asked, watching in amusement at his dwarf friend in the overhead mirror. Pipkin giggled.

"There is a strange red dot bouncing around. I can't catch it!" As Pipkin uttered those words Alan realised, with a chill of fear, someone had the laser sighter of a gun fixed on them. "Everybody down!" he bellowed before, not a second later, a silent sniper bullet penetrated the back window, narrowly missing his head. Glancing into the overhead mirror, he saw the reflection of a masked man with a rifle, sitting in a tree behind them; the faint popping noise of another bullet told him, there were many others stationed all around.

Stepping down hard on the accelerator, he tried doing violent manoeuvres, in hopes of making it difficult for the snipers to keep them locked on target. Unfortunately, almost as if the terrorists had been anticipating this move, the shooters instantly switched to silent sub-machine guns, rendering Alan's manoeuvres pointless. Bullets penetrated all sides of the jeep like needles through rice paper, puncturing holes all over the aluminium. They sped on through the shower of bullets, Alan expecting at any second, a bullet to strike the fuel tank and blow them up or to puncture a tyre that would send them flipping over onto their backs…

Just as he thought they were in the clear, he saw the truck that had been pursuing them suddenly reappear, heading straight towards them. The jeep vibrated dangerously, as it struck them from behind, attempting to knock them off the road. While holding the wheel firmly with one hand, he turned to his rabbit friends in the back, "My bag! Find the grenade! Hurry!" Fiver, who had seen a grenade before and could recognise it, pawed through the cluster of items in Alan's rucksack and soon emerged with the grenade clutched in his mouth. He tossed it to Alan, who pulled the pin out.

Holding it out the broken window and using his side mirror to get a clear shot, he took aim and tossed it in the direction of the truck and at the same second, pressed down hard on the accelerator to speed them up. The grenade rolled under the truck, where it detonated causing the vehicle to explode. Flames and metal debris flew through the air, followed by a shockwave that caused the remains of the back window of Alan's jeep to shatter, but luckily not knocking the jeep off the road.

Staring into the mirror, he saw the terrorists pursuing them had stopped, blocked by the burning wreckage of the truck; for the moment they were safe again. However, he hadn't realised that a stray bullet had punctured the jeep's brake fluid chamber, which was leaking and rapidly causing the brake pressure to decrease. And the bomb still lay armed and unnoticed in the glove compartment, the timer counting down from just over four hours…

Sven, Tom and the others stared at the retreating racing off into the distance. Shelton shook his head, "That son of a bitch is a real piece of work, isn't he?"

"Yes, that why we are going to stop playing his game his way," replied Shertok, "We aren't dealing with an amateur here; we are dealing with the Professor of Evasion himself! This guy can only be caught with _cunning_, not with _force_. Do you still have a fix on those core beacons?" Shelton inspected a portable GPS he was carrying and nodded, "Good, now keep tracking them until they stop moving. I suspect Johnson is on his way to meet his secret informant, to deliver the cores for safekeeping. We are going to track them down to the meeting place and strike then. In the meantime, tell those morons back there to clean up this mess before it attracts any unwanted attention," he said, pointing at the truck wreckage and all the devastation caused by the failed ambush.

As Alan and his companions drove along the country road towards Kingsclere, now that the danger was over, the man was showing his friends the place that would someday be part of their world. "That small town we passed earlier was Newtown Common, where Cowslip's warren will exist some day. The savages' village will be somewhere back there in that valley we passed, where this highway runs now." Suddenly Fiver called out, "Look, I see Watership Down ahead!"

Sure enough, as the jeep reached the top of a hill, the Down loomed into view ahead of them, about two miles away. They had reached the very spot where they had all seen the Down for the first time in the future. Below them was the valley that would someday become the feeding grounds for the future wildlife, currently taken up by a vast plain of ploughed fields, overrun by snow. The canyon beneath the southern side of the Down was entirely absent, since it hadn't been formed yet. Alan felt goose bumps; aside from the future, he hadn't dared approach this place, not since before the deaths of his family. Now that he was finally retracing his steps, he was ironically accompanied by those he had come to accept as his new family, as if tempting fate again.

Suddenly, as they reached a crossroad that would lead them to Nuthanger Farm, he tried to brake so he could turn but, to his bewilderment, the jeep didn't slow down, causing him to miss the turn. Looking out the window, expecting to see ice on the road he realised, to his horror, it wasn't ice at all. His _brakes_ were not responding; the brake fluid chamber was nearly drained. Even with his foot nearly through the floor, the jeep wouldn't slow down one bit. He desperately tried the handbrake only to find it was jammed. Now they were heading at full speed along the path that led towards the Down, leaving Nuthanger Farm behind them, with no way to stop.

"Everybody hang on as tight as you can! I can't stop this thing!" he bellowed as the jeep continued to speed uncontrollably along the road. As it started moving uphill on the Down, Alan saw his chance; the deserted grass plains used during the yearly horseback races. He pressed down hard on the accelerator, giving the jeep all the power it needed to climb the footpath, heading towards the nearest horseracing track. As he entered through the open gate, he swung the wheel round, hoping to keep the jeep moving in circles around the obstacles, until it would slow down. For a moment, it seemed to work as he saw his speedometer begin to drop. Unfortunately, he hadn't taken into account the fact that the track hadn't been drenched in salt like the rest of the roads, since it wasn't used at this time of year.

Suddenly, the tyres skidded on the ice and the jeep fell out of control again. It skidded towards the edge, burst through the safety barrier and ploughed its way downhill, straight into the fields at the foot of the Down. He could see branches brushing against the windshield as the jeep mowed down everything in its path, his friends' screams ringing in his ears. Fearing a pothole that could send the jeep tumbling over, Alan desperately resorted to putting the engine into reverse, attempting to use it as a brake. Unfortunately, it still wasn't good enough and Alan saw smoke appear on the windshield, indicating it was about to seize up under the strain.

As the jeep continued to skid along the fields, he suddenly realised they were now heading back towards Nuthanger Farm. Sure enough, as the jeep burst through another fence, Nuthanger Farm loomed into view right ahead of them, at the end of the footpath. The jeep sped right towards it, crashing through the shackled wooden gate and into the garden, heading straight towards the solid brick wall of the house, where they would all be crushed flat on impact. It was only when Alan suddenly made a violent manoeuvre and swung the jeep to the right, straight towards the ruined barns.

The heavy vehicle crashed straight through the rotting wooden door and into the barn, where it struck a haystack and finally stopped. Dust and wooden debris fell from the ancient rafters, hammering down into the jeep's roof, causing it to sag. Then followed a total silence, as everything stilled. Outside, the snow continued to fall across the countryside of Hampshire, covering up the tyre tracks the jeep had left in its path.

Back inside the barn, Alan and his companions slowly got back their bearings, panting heavily. Alan turned on the cabin lights, illuminating the scene: they had crashed into the farm barns, the very same place that supposedly once held the hutch rabbits that Hazel and his band had liberated from the farm, in the story of _Watership Down_.

Unfastening his seatbelt, Alan turned round to face his companions and saw them all wide-eyed, shocked, bruised, and panting from the wild ride, staring back at him, "Anybody hurt back there?"

"No, all in one piece I think. What in Frith's name happened?" Bigwig said gruffly, as he tried to stand, only to painfully bang his head against the sagged roof of the cabin. "That explosion must have damaged the brakes; I couldn't slow us down. Lucky this old haystack was here; otherwise we would have gone straight through the opposite wall and smashed into the trees outside."

"Well, what matters is that we made it and we are all safe," said Hazel ("Oh yes, we're safe as burrows," muttered Bigwig rolling his eyes), "What now, Alan?"

"We need to find a safe hiding spot for these and get the hell out of here before those bloody bastards catch up with us again," Alan said, gesturing at the cores piled in the back of the jeep, "It has to be someplace completely non-traceable, if our plan is going to work." After they had dug themselves out of the haystacks, Alan reached inside and retrieved his weapons' backpack from the back seat. As he hoisted the heavy backpack onto his shoulders, he turned and saw Bigwig trying to revive Hawkbit, who seemed to be catatonic.

"Get up, you duffer! What in Frith's name is the matter with you?" Bigwig bellowed as he nudged Hawkbit. Bending over, expecting to find an injury, Alan realised, with a snort of amusement, Hawkbit was simply in a state of shock, petrified with fear from the ride. Feeling they were running out of time, he did the first thing that came to mind.

Bending over Hawkbit, he whispered in his ear, "Hawkbit, Bigwig is about to beat you black and blue, old chap!" He had just said the magic words, for Hawkbit's greatest fear was an angry Bigwig. The blackish grey buck instantly snapped back to his senses, as he registered what Alan was saying.

"WHAT? NO, BIGWIG WHAT IN FRITH'S NAME ARE YOU DOING?" he screeched, instantly standing bolt upright, as he spotted Bigwig standing beside him, snorting, definitely not about to strike him. The others doubled over with laughter, seeing the look on Hawkbit's face. In an instant Hawkbit's expression of shock gave way to irritation, "Very funny. Your little gag scared the hraka out of me! Mark my words, I am not riding another hrududu again, even if you made me Chief Rabbit."

"All right, knock it off, we haven't got all season," Hazel said, interrupting his friends laughter. Leaving the jeep with the cores where it was, they headed towards the broken barn door, still unaware of the cores' tracking system and the live bomb still in the glove compartment. As they walked out into the garden, Alan froze. He was standing on the very spot where he and Derek had fought Robbins and his two goons, the place where his family had been murdered. Painful memories resurfaced in his mind as he stared around the deserted garden.

The woodpile where Derek had taken the log to fight his opponent was still there, with the log still lying a few feet away in the snow. The pitchfork that Alan had used against the second henchman was missing. As he stared in the direction of the gate, the memory of Robbins shooting his wife and daughter flashed back into his mind and he lowered his head in sadness. Fiver, sensing his friend's sadness, gently nudged him on the side. "Alan, what's wrong?"

"This is where it happened; they were standing right there by that tree at the gate," he said pointing in the direction of the footpath, where he had found the remains of his wife and daughter. "Robbins sent his two henchmen after me and Derek and killed them during the distraction. It is because I told them to wait outside, that they are now dead. If I had only told them to come with me, where I could have had them in my sight and out of Robbins' reach, they might still be alive. Oh God, how could I have been so careless?" He sunk to his knees.

Seeing his friend about to succumb to his own personal demons, Hazel turned to face Alan, "Alan, listen to me. No matter how much it hurts, nothing can bring them back now. Let go of the past and embrace the future. You have us now; and currently we need your help. Our task is still incomplete. Can you do that for us?"

Alan slowly raised his head to stare at his Chief. "Thanks Hazel. I…I'll try." He got up and they headed towards the farmhouse, hoping to find a hiding place for the cores. After forcing open the boarded-up front door, they entered the deserted, pitch-black kitchen of the farmhouse. The house was completely dark and silent, all windows having been boarded up long ago, after the last of the Cane family had passed away. The room was empty, except for an old refrigerator in a corner, and some piles of garbage that lay scattered about. Dust and cobwebs covered every inch of the place, giving the impression of a haunted house. Suddenly Bigwig called out.

"Chaps, over here! I found something." They all hurried over to him and saw, in a place where none of them had stepped yet, was a set of human footprints in the dust, looking quite recent too. Bigwig sniffed at the prints, as if trying to identify them, "Recent scent and vaguely familiar too…"

"It smells vaguely familiar to me too Bigwig," Hazel said, also sniffing at the prints, "But who…?"

"It's a trap isn't it?" said Pipkin, shuddering, as he stared around open-eyed, as if expecting someone to spring at them from the shadows. Alan however, having developed a habit of watching Fiver's sixth sense for signs of imminent danger, knew from the buck's calm demeanour that they were out of danger, for the moment anyway. Staring at the footprints of the unknown previous visitor, he realised there was something about them that looked vaguely familiar to him too…

"Oxford shoes, size 9,5 with pointed tips…" he muttered to himself as he carefully examined the footprints, piecing all the information together… Suddenly Hawkbit's voice caught his attention, "Alan, come take a look at this!" They all rushed over and saw that he had found a recent cigarette stub lying on the floor. Alan picked it up and read the familiar crest on the ribbon: "'Bradley & Co, Oxford St, London'… No, it can't be _him_! On the other hand, who else could it be? If the shoe fits, then we have found…" But his muttering was cut short by Bigwig, who suddenly shushed them up.

"Quiet!" he hissed in a low voice, "I think I hear someone." They all instantly fell silent as Alan put out his flashlight and drew his revolver. They all held their breaths, listening, until they heard it: snoring, coming from the room next door. Motioning to the others to follow him, they noiselessly approached the door that led to a back room, which had probably once been the living room.

The door stood ajar and as Alan peeped in through the crack, he saw a sleeping bag on the floor, with a man lying fast asleep inside it. Beside him lay the pitchfork that Alan had previously used against the poacher, with his colleague's hand clutching it in a firm grip as he slept. In the far corner stood an old crate that had been fashioned into a makeshift desk with an overturned bucket that was being used as a chair. Atop the desk lay a stack of newspapers, an expensive laptop, an open briefcase with some scattered papers, an empty fish-and-chips-takeaway box, a half-full bottle of water and, to his utmost surprise, his research notebook that had gone missing from his apartment.

Shining his flashlight on the sleeping figure, letting the light fell across the face, revealing a pale, unshaven face with a familiar gold tooth in the upper jaw and a ruby ring on the left hand. Not yet a dead and mutilated mummy but very much alive, if not a bit dishevelled, the creator of the future world, Dr Cole Drake himself lay fast asleep before them.

Author's note: Alan and company went to Nuthanger Farm, expecting to find a hiding place for the cores, only to find Drake was also using the place as a hideout. Coming up next, Drake's confession, further plans and more fighting…Thank you everyone who has been reading my story so far and thank you all for your wonderful reviews! They have all been of great help to me and I highly appreciate them. Do enjoy the following chapters and please review so I can update faster!


	34. Chapter 34 Dr Drake’s Confession

Inspector Santon strode through the Johnson apartment while his men collected possible evidence. After Johnson had escaped from police custody, he had ordered to pass the word to all police officers throughout the city to keep a sharp lookout for the professor, as well as to fax photographs of him to all airports, train stations and hotels, while he renewed the search, starting at Alan's apartment.

Charles Santon had been in the police force for nearly twenty years; a native of Bradford, he had been introduced to the police forces by his father, who had been a sheriff in Cottingley, before the family had moved to Birmingham when Charles had been a teenager. After graduating from Glasgow University with a degree in law, he had decided to follow in his father's footsteps. Starting off as a private investigator, he had slowly taken great steps in his career, eventually becoming an Inspector after joining Scotland Yard several years ago. During the war, he had worked for the British Secret Service, focusing mostly on enemy espionage.

After the war, he had returned to a relatively boring life as a police inspector, until the Johnson case had come up. Originally, there had been another inspector in charge of the investigation, who had declared the case a suicide crash, wrapping it up altogether. But then, when Dr Johnson's housekeeper had been found butchered, Scotland Yard had reopened the case and put Santon in charge of the investigation.

After combing Mrs Hanson's apartment for evidence but finding nothing but signs of a sickening massacre, they had extended the search into the Johnson household; Santon had been the one to find the incriminating, bloodstained knife. He had since been working to track down Johnson until he had suddenly shown up in his home, as if returning from a holiday. Then, when they had detained him, there had been this strange statement he had given them, about being targeted by a terrorist faction, which had murdered his family and the others that had gone missing, as well as in position of _a nuclear weapon_! Although most of his colleagues had insisted that these were just the words of a deluded madman and psychotic killer, Santon could detect some flaws in his superiors' deduction and had insisted on checking Johnson's story.

So Santon and his team had returned to Drayton Court and renewed the search of the vandalised apartment. Several men got to work, examining the doors, furniture, carpets and every other possible location for fresh fingerprints, hair samples or any other clues that could explain what Johnson had been doing. A photographer walked around the house, taking pictures of every room from top to bottom. Santon, having developed the habit of working alone, started a thorough search of the rooms for any useful evidence Alan might have left behind. After hearing the professor's story back at headquarters, although half of him felt that it was just a cover-up story, the other half told him he should try and confirm its validity before jumping to any conclusions.

Walking into the smallest bedroom, which had once belonged to Alan's late daughter, wondering what was the reason behind all this inexplicable ransacking, he noticed Alan's most beloved book lying on the pillow. Being a _Watership Down_ fan himself, he picked it up and flipped through the pages, his police duties temporarily forgotten. Suddenly, he noticed a shade of red appear on one of the pages. Hastily flipping back, he saw a strange marking on page 205, 'Nuthanger Farm'. The chapter heading was circled in red with what appeared to be red ink, and scribbled beside it was a message (probably meant for Alan to find), also in red, saying: _'If something happens to me find C.S.D. here. He will explain all. I love you, Mary.'_

Before he could make sense of this cryptic message, his deputy, detective Neil Coyle, entered, "Excuse me sir, but we found something interesting back here. You better come and see." Hastily shoving the book in his pocket, he followed the deputy to the bathroom. Two officers with protective gloves were carefully examining a pile of filthy, shredded, bloodstained clothes they had fished out of the laundry basket. Upon closer inspection, Santon realised what they had found.

"Those are the clothes Johnson was wearing on the day he disappeared, aren't they?" Having eyes like a hawk and a sharp memory to boot, Santon knew for a fact, these hadn't been here on their previous visit.

"We think so, sir. Wherever he has been, he seems to have had a hell of a rough time," replied Coyle, raising the left sleeve of the shirt, staring at the bloodstain caused by the bite wound Woundwort had inflicted on Alan. The inspector frowned, "What the devil could have caused all these injuries?" he muttered, staring at all the grotesque slashes and bloodstains on the clothes. Suddenly, as one of the men picked up the bundle, something fell out of a pocket; it was Derek's memory stick containing a copy of Drake's visual log of the future, which Alan had pocketed and forgotten all about. Santon picked it up, and, spotting Derek's signature written on the plastic cover in everlasting ink, pocketed it.

"Have these rags taken to the lab for a thorough examination," he ordered, "I am going to have the contents of this examined personally, to see if it contains anything useful. In the meantime, I want someone to check into Dr Shaw's work files for a satellite guidance system he might have been working on in the past two years, which was reported stolen. Also search all our databases for a name with the initials C.S.D.; I want to know who it is and in what way is this person related to Dr Johnson. Report to me in my office, when you have the results."

He turned and left, taking with him Derek's flashstick as well as Alan's copy of _Watership Down_, which had that mysterious cryptic message left behind by Johnson's wife. As he made his way back to the police station, he kept wondering _Is it possible that Dr Johnson was actually telling the truth? Perhaps there is indeed something more to all this business?_

After returning to Scotland Yard headquarters in Westminster and locking himself in his office, with an order not to be disturbed unless it was important, he got to work to read Derek's flashstick on his computer. Although he knew he could end up in trouble for keeping evidence from a crime scene to himself, after hearing Johnson's statement, the inspector somehow felt he should examine it alone first; he could always turn it in to his superiors afterwards.

Although the hardware of the present-day flashstick allowed him to hook it up easily, the data was in a format of software at least 20 years in advance, making it difficult for his computer to read the files. What would he find on this flashstick that Johnson had been carrying on him during his disappearance? Could it be some sort of evidence exposing those terrorists he had named? Perhaps it was the answer to all this mystery? Finally, after an hour of experimenting, Santon managed to find some software advanced enough to read the futuristic file format. The look of horror and shock on the inspector's face, as the history of events-yet-to-come unfolded on video before him, was beyond imagination…

Meanwhile, back at Nuthanger Farm, Alan and his friends stood around the sleeping Dr Drake. The man's appearance told Alan that his former colleague must have had a rough time while in hiding; Drake's hair was unkempt and unwashed and his beard had grown nearly half an inch, almost as if the man hadn't shaved in days. Drake's usually crisp clean clothes were filthy and threadbare, indicating he had been wearing the same suit for a while. The smell of squalor filled the room.

Quickly regaining his composure, Alan sharply nudged the sleeping man in the shoulder with the tip of his shoe. Drake groaned and slowly opened his eyes; realising he had company, the man emitted a high-pitched scream so loud, that Alan felt sure his long-eared friends would get their eardrums busted. Before he could shut Drake up, Bigwig, who was standing closest to Drake and thus had received the scream directly in the ear, clamped his forepaws directly over Drake's mouth, muffling the rest of his screams. The others quickly joined in the struggle, furiously trying to restrain the now panicking man, who was desperately trying to reach the pitchfork beside him to defend himself.

It took nearly two minutes for Drake to stop struggling, during which time Hawkbit received a kick directly in the face that left him with a shoe-shaped bruise, while Bigwig got trodden down upon on his hind paw and Alan narrowly missed being punched in the groin. However, combined with the strength of six, the man was soon subdued and pinned to the floor. Alan took off his hat and shone the flashlight in his face, so Drake could recognise him, "Calm down man! It's me, Alan Johnson!" Drake's jaw dropped open in surprise, revealing his lack of dental hygiene.

"A…_Alan_? No, it can't be! No, you're dead! They killed you…" Drake gasped, staring open mouthed at his colleague. His panic and confusion only increased as he spotted the group of giant talking rabbits surrounding him, "No, I am just having another nightmare! You are all a hallucination caused by that stale salad I had for dinner. Yes, that's what you are; a disorder caused by a piece of rotten cabbage…Ow!" he suddenly cried as Bigwig cuffed him over the head, snapping him out of his hysteria.

"And if you stop acting like a cabbage-brained field mouse and get a grip on yourself, I'll cuff you into next season! We aren't here to hurt you!" the veteran growled, using his immense weight to keep Drake pinned. Hawkbit, having recovered from the kick in the face groaned, "For what it's worth, this clumsy idiot has got a kick like a horse. I don't see any reason why we shouldn't beat the hraka out of him!" Bigwig turned to glare at him, "And I'll beat the hraka out of _you_ if you don't shut up!"

Slowly Drake begun to realise that his guests were real and began to calm down. Bigwig and the others slowly loosened their grip on the man, who kept staring at each of them in turn, completely dumbstruck at the amazing sight of the giant talking rabbits that supposedly only existed in the notes of his experiments, as well as his colleague who had supposedly been killed ten days ago, "Alan, what…what are you doing here? How did you…? Where…?"

"Where have I been all this time?" Alan supplied for him, "Someplace you can't even imagine. How did I survive Red Hand? With difficulty…and help from my new friends here," he said, gesturing in the direction of the rabbits, "And we have some questions that need answering…from _you_," continued the professor, giving Drake a rather cold look, remembering what he had read in Miles' letter.

Although he obviously hadn't expected to find Drake here, he now saw his chance to finally learn what was his colleague's connection with Red Hand and the deaths of his family and also, to warn him about the future he was destined to build someday. Sure enough, Dr Drake looked uneasy at Alan's cold gaze, probably realising that his former colleague had found out what he had done. "Questions? What sort of questions?" Alan took out Miles' letter from his pocket and held it out to Drake.

"Well, for starters, let's hear how you got involved with those Red Hand psychotics and why did you drag me and my family to the party," he said icily, watching Drake start to sweat with anxiety, realising that Alan had indeed figured it all out, "And before you get any half-baked ideas about giving us some crock-and-bull tosh, let me warn you that we already know plenty and if your word doesn't have a ring of validity, I just might bestow upon you, the fate Red Hand currently has in mind for me! Now, what is the truth behind the deaths of my family?" Seeing that the time to confess his mistake had arrived, Drake explained.

"The truth is the deaths of your family were _planned_, as well as yours and your friend Dr Shaw's. The attack here at Nuthanger Farm was an ambush planned by the Red Hand Brotherhood, a terrorist faction run by Sergey Petrograd. It all started over a year ago, when your brother-in-law discovered a scam in the M.O.D., involving the junior attaché making illegal investments for Petrograd's faction," he explained, his voice trembling with each word, almost as if he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Drake's confession went on for nearly an hour, during which time, Alan's suspicions were finally confirmed.

The scientist told them how he had gotten in contact with Miles, who confided in him about his discovery of Robbins' investments, the disk he had made and how he passed it on to his sister for safekeeping until the hearings. After Miles had been killed but the disk not found in his possession, Drake had come in contact with Mary, to secretly receive it and turn it in to the authorities on Mile's request, right under Red Hand's nose. However, Petrograd, who had also been after the disk, had suspected that Mary had it and ordered Drake to lure Alan and his family into an ambush. Alan was furious, "So you _were_ working for Red Hand! It was _you_ who betrayed my family and ruined my life! I will kill you, you double-crossing rotten bastard…"

Before he could strike Drake however, his colleague suddenly reached into his pocket and took out a small computer disk with a key code written in Mile's handwriting on the top: the disk that had started all this trouble, the disk that had claimed the lives of all these people and altered the course of Alan's life. Alan's jaw dropped in surprise, "_You_ had it the entire time? But if you were a Red Hand spy, how come you didn't turn it over to Petrograd?"

"Because I was never really working for Red Hand as you think; I was a _double agent_ all along," Drake muttered grimly, "Mary gave it to me during our meeting, just as Miles had instructed her to do, so I could pass it on to the authorities." But Alan only felt his fury renew at this explanation.

"You had the means to end this in your hands all this time and yet you didn't turn it in?" he growled, "You just decided to lie low until everything cooled down, while my family and friends were murdered without even knowing why! You decided to protect your own neck, while Miles, Mary, Lucy, Derek and so many others were slaughtered over this business! You cowardly piece of slime!" Cracking his knuckles in a menacing manner, he raised a fist to punch his former colleague in the face, but Fiver stopped him, "Alan, please, that won't do us any good and it won't bring back your family either." Alan's respect for his mystic friend won over his rage and he managed to calm his nerves, just enough to restrain himself from pounding his colleague's bones to pudding. Drake lowered his head in shame.

"You'd have every right to hit me. Indeed, I knew it would mean a death sentence for you and your family," he muttered, looking extremely guilt-ridden, "However, I have something to say on my own defence: I didn't decide to use you as a scapegoat to protect myself; I was _blackmailed_ into luring you into that trap. Petrograd threatened the lives of my own family, so he left me no choice. He didn't know I had secretly recovered the disk from under his nose or he would have killed me outright. I had prayed you would have been able to handle the situation and escape unharmed. For what it's worth, I am sorry." Although Alan wanted nothing better than to tell Drake to go to hell, his curiosity suddenly lit up as he realised he was missing something.

"But why would Petrograd threaten _you_ of all people into doing his bidding? He had enough willing henchmen to do his dirty work. What were _you_ to him? Are you some _drop-out_ terrorist or something?" Drake, seemingly offended at this remark, looked up at Alan with a firm face.

"Let me make something absolutely clear: I have _never_, nor to I intend to, willingly cooperate with the likes of them. I am not some sick murderer who accepts dirty money to kill people; I am just as much the victim as you are. But I don't deny, that I _do_ have a secret connection between myself and Petrograd, one that was forced upon me since birth, completely against my will, and one I can't sever, no matter how much I want to," he said with an expression of self disgust written on his face. Alan, feeling more perplexed that ever, inquired, "Why?"

"Because Sergey Petrograd, otherwise known as Joseph Buxton is - or rather _was_ - my own father!" Alan and the rabbits gasped in surprise. Dr Cole Drake, the _son_ of an international terrorist? Suddenly it all clicked into his mind, like a jigsaw puzzle: Drake hadn't been targeted because of the disk and he hadn't accepted some bribe like Shelton or Shertok had done, only to get cold feet at the last moment and make a run for it. He had been used as an instrument by his _father_, who had control over him through their family relation. By threatening his son's family, to force him to comply, Sergey had secured a link to the Johnsons through Drake, who was Alan's colleague. Remembering Sergey's inexplicable death, Alan asked in a more sympathetic way, "So it was _you_ that sabotaged Sergey's medication, weren't you? You have secretly been working to bring him down, in revenge for what he forced you to do?" Drake nodded grimly, still refusing to look Alan directly in the eyes in shame.

"Yes, it was me who did Sergey in. Ever since the deaths of your wife and daughter, my father had warned me to keep my mouth shut or else, my family would follow; to ensure my silence, he even kidnapped them the very night he set his new plan in motion to get to you, with the promise they would be released if I cooperated. After you disappeared, he threatened me again, thinking I was secretly aiding you. I knew there was no chance of saving my family anymore, so I decided to end it. Then I fled into hiding here, with a local boy supplying me with my simple needs; a plate of food, a pint of water, and a newspaper to monitor outside activity. My plan was to wait until things had cooled down enough for me to come forward and, hopefully, avenge my family by exposing Red Hand." At this point he broke down sobbing and Alan couldn't help but feel deep sympathy for his colleague, despite the injustice he had done him; after everything he had just heard, he realised Drake also shared his misfortune. And ironically, Alan was technically responsible for the deaths of Drake's family by disappearing into the future. The scientist took a moment to calm himself before continuing.

"But I am afraid, it is still far from over; although I had hoped Red Hand would abort with Sergey's death, his life's work still exists. I suppose you also know about Project Black Inferno? Even with my father dead, it is only a matter of time before the rest of his faction recover its missing power source, which my father hid somewhere before he died, and assemble it. Should that happen, my efforts would be in vain, when we get to see the dawn of a new era of terrorism." However, Alan couldn't help but suppress a smile at this point, remembering that the cores were now safely in _thei_r possession, putting them one step ahead of Red Hand.

"Fortunately, my friends and I have already eliminated that prospect. We came here, hoping to find someplace to hide them until we can figure out how to destroy them." Drake's confusion increased, "But where did you get all this information from and _where_ on earth did these…these creatures come from? By God, it looks almost as if my dream experiments have somehow come true…" Alan looked at him; Drake wasn't far from figuring out the truth and, after hearing his confession, he felt his colleague deserved to know. If they were going to try and correct the future, he might as well give Drake his own confession now. Looking in the direction of his friends, who nodded in agreement, he turned back to his colleague.

"All right Cole, you listen to me damn carefully now: If you want to know the truth, bear in mind it is very dangerous information, which might determine the future of mankind. If I am to tell you what's going on, it will only be on the following conditions: First, you must swear an oath of absolute secrecy before I start, an oath that you will be bound to keep for the rest of your life. And second, you will only use this information according to my instructions; you aren't to exploit it in any way whatsoever. Do you accept my terms? Choose your answer carefully, for once I start, there is no turning back." Drake looked rather uneasy at his colleague's warning, yet his curiosity overpowered and he nodded.

"Very well. I suggest we all make ourselves comfortable, for it may take a while." Sitting down on a crate, Alan launched into his story of everything that had happened to him, since the night on Baker Street. Outside, the snow continued to drop silently…

Meanwhile, Inspector Santon sat at his desk in shock, fighting the urge to vomit. For the past hour, he had viewed the contents of the future log over and over again, which revealed to him an upcoming doomsday in the non-so-distant future. The missing scientist, Dr Cole Drake had been - or rather _would be_ - a witness to all of this someday. This man was apparently destined to reshape the world, by creating some genetically enhanced species of animals with _human intelligence_. Santon kept wondering, where could have Johnson have found these recordings and how did it tie up with the business concerning his disappearance and the Red Hand Brotherhood?

As he paced around his office, his brains nearly scrambled from too much thinking, the answer slowly came to him, crazy and absurd, yet the only logical explanation: Time Travel. "Dr Johnson somehow journeyed into the future", he reasoned, feeling like a complete idiot, "That explains his inexplicable disappearance and all the information he knows. Does that mean there will be a nuclear holocaust caused by that weapon someday? Maybe he and his companions found themselves in the midst of a future war and only Johnson escaped back here?" he thought to himself, remembering Alan's shredded clothes, with all the bloodstains, indicating hardships.

"No, it can't be," he told himself, "What the hell am I doing anyway? Forging videos is a very common trick nowadays. No, all I have found is a bunch of _false evidence_, deliberately left behind by Johnson, in hopes of clearing his name," he muttered, remembering from the recording, how an older Drake had named Officer Shertok, a man with an astounding record of loyal service in the Armed Forces, as a spy for Red Hand, "The lab results will prove it soon enough." As if on queue, there was a knock on his door. Unlocking the door, he found a lab analyst, who was carrying a dossier, "We have the lab results sir. They bring out the most complicated data imaginable." Santon's mood changed, "Come in and close the door. Now then, what have you got?"

"Inspector, we have carefully examined and re-examined everything your people brought in from Johnson's home. The results make no sense whatsoever," explained the analyst, going through the dossier that held the lab report. "Those hairs you found underwent a thorough DNA analysis and…well, they aren't exactly _human_." Santon raised his eyebrows, "What do mean, not _exactly_ human?"

"Sir, we performed the same test a dozen times and got exactly the same results every single time: the computer reads the DNA strand as that of a _rabbit_, only with some human chromosomes in certain key places. It makes no sense whatsoever." Santon frowned at this, remembering Drake's role in the future, "What about the clothes? Anything useful from there?"

"We examined the rags carefully and performed several tests. The blood from that large stain on the sleeve is definitely Johnson's. However, most of the other stains are of different origin; they all seem to come from that same being that left those strange hairs behind in Johnson's apartment. Also, on the sleeve stain, the microscope revealed traces of saliva directly over the point of impact, again from that unknown creature. The slashes on the flannel seem to have been caused by some wild animal and not by artificial means. Finally, we have also detected some faint traces of radiation on the clothing, similar to those usually left behind by a plasma burst. It is almost as if Johnson was exposed to some sort of ultra-violet radiation source at some point during his disappearance. As for fingerprints, the only ones we could find were Johnson and Shaw's. Inspector, I don't know about you sir, but we are at a loss at drawing any logical conclusion here."

Santon considered carefully; although the deduction sounded absurd and would probably be laughed at by his superiors, the inspector knew that DNA molecules couldn't be faked. And there was only one person who could confirm the validity of his findings, other than Johnson: Dr Cole Drake, the apparent creator of the creature that had left these hairs behind. His mind flashed back, when he and Shertok had arrived at Johnson's apartment and heard those unknown voices inside. Could they have been those future rabbits? He turned back to the analyst, "What about Shaw's work records or the mysterious C.S.D.? Found any useful leads there?"

"Well sir," said the analyst, frowning, "We did find he had indeed been working on a guidance system meant for a communications satellite for the military. The only blueprints were reported mysteriously stolen shortly after completion and never recovered. We also checked all our databases for the initials C.S.D.; several names came up of which only one has any connection to Johnson. It's his old colleague Dr Cole Sergey Drake. However, we doubt he is connected to this case…"

At that moment, there was a loud knock on the door and Neil Coyle burst in, looking pale, "Sir, something's happened! A policeman cornered Johnson outside Dr Shaw's home and was shot dead!" Santon jumped to his feet, the possibility of Alan being innocent instantly fading from his mind, "Johnson killed a policeman?"

"No sir, someone _else_ pulled the trigger," Coyle explained, "We examined the footage from a nearby CCTV camera and saw that some other unidentified person was attempting to kill Johnson when the officer intervened and the murderer turned his gun on him instead. By the look of it, the killer was overpowered and shot. It was Johnson who summoned an ambulance from the officer's radio before fleeing." Santon looked surprised, "You are telling me, someone was actually trying to _kill_ Johnson?"

"It seems so sir. We searched the killer's body but found no identification, other than this strange crest, engraved on his weapon." He handed his boss a lab photograph, revealing the crest of the Red Hand Brotherhood engraved on the barrel of the assassin's gun, just like Johnson had described it to him. Santon frowned in suspicion as he also remembered Johnson's accusations against Shertok, "All right, that does it. I want officer Shertok brought in for questioning at once. Pass the word to summon him back here immediately. I want to talk with him now!"

"What about Dr Johnson? Shouldn't we be focusing on tracing him instead?" At the inspector's stern stare, the man cringed, "R…right away sir!"

After Coyle and the analyst left, Santon sat back down, "If Johnson is right, then there is a far greater danger to worry about. But where could he have fled to? Maybe…" Suddenly, as if hit by realisation, he reached into his jacket pocket and took out Alan's copy of _Watership Down_, remembering the mysterious cryptic message scribbled inside. "Dr Drake is at Nuthanger Farm expecting to meet Johnson! So that's where our fugitive is going! And if Shertok gets there first…" Hastily putting on his coat, he hurried out of his office, to summon his squad.

Back at Nuthanger Farm, Alan and his rabbit friends had just finished telling Drake their story; how they had met, their journey to their new home, Robbins' betrayal, learning of the catastrophe caused by Apocalypse and Pandora, the story of the origin of the Four Brothers, General Woundwort, Project Black Inferno, the deaths of all their friends, and their escape to the past, hoping to correct the future…

They told Drake everything, except the part about Hemlock's betrayal and his own murder, making it sound as if humans had died out during the Ice Age, while the rabbits survived and evolved into the new dominant species. Although Alan didn't hate Drake so much as to let him encounter his horrible fate without warning, he feared that he would get cold feet and never undertake the project of creating the rabbits at all, consequently eliminating the existence of his friends' kind entirely, which would completely negate the purpose of their mission. _No_, he thought, _That piece of information will have to wait for now._

"So, as you see Drake, if our world is to have a chance for a future, Project Black Inferno must be destroyed at all costs. I have already decided to return to the future once my task here is done, taking a small group of people with me, in hopes of restarting civilisation." Drake looked up at Alan, probably realising he had left something out, "How did you say the human race disappeared?"

"Hard to tell. I suspect the last few died out during the Ice Age," Alan replied, still refusing to admit the fact that it would be Hemlock and Shertok's doing which would lead to humanity's ultimate destruction. Drake however still looked suspicious, "And you say our descendants evolved into some sort of mutants with primitive intelligence, like a phenomenon of unnatural selection?"

"Yes, they definitely originated from the mentally handicapped children born in the HAB, while you and your companions waited for the Apocalypse to pass. As far as we could tell, there were also no other survivors from other HABs around the world by the time it was over."

"And me? What is to become of me?" asked Drake, watching Alan carefully. Seeing that his colleague was pushing the matter too far and since he still didn't feel ready to share the whole story with him just yet, Alan decided to cut it short.

"We don't know; the information we found was very vague. All we know is you left a visual log of all these events, up until the year 2041. What happened to you beyond that, we don't know. What matters is that the entire world's future depends on _you_. Now, since you are one of the world's leading scientists on genetics, I need to ask you a question: is this scenario doable?" Drake, who had been observing the rabbits for the past hour and running genetic simulations in the back of his head, walked over to his makeshift desk and started going through his notes.

"The presence of your rabbit friends here alone confirms that it can definitely be done…somehow. However, we are only at the beginning. During my time in hiding, I briefly continued working on our old project using the theoretical ecosystems you left me in your notes. If I had the funding and the right team of researchers, I suppose it could be done in 20…no, 15 years. However, how can we accomplish all this when we are being hunted down by assassins and the police remain oblivious to our situation?"

"What about Mile's disk? Perhaps it could help us clear my name and uncover Red Hand?" But Drake shook his head, "I've already tried to read its contents and it's completely hacker-proof. It can only work inside the M.O.D. database. Besides, it…" Suddenly Bigwig's voice interrupted the discussion, "Everybody shut up! I thing we have company." Sure enough, as Alan peered through a crack in the boarded-up window, he saw a dozen masked and heavily armed men approaching the farm. Red Hand had caught up with them again.

Looking back at his companions, he saw Fiver turn tharn again, as he always did when there was imminent danger. Hastily putting out the flashlight and handing Drake a gun, Alan and his companions sat quietly and alert, hoping for a chance to escape, or otherwise, determined to fight to the end.

Outside, the assassins, led by Sven Shertok and Tom Shelton, approached the house. Sven turned to Shelton, "Have you got a fix on the core beacons?"

"Yes sir, there are in the barn." Sven smiled maliciously, "Splendid. Right, Shelton, take a few men in there and retrieve them. Samir, pass the word to the rest to get out the tear gas. We will gas them out and take them down as they try to run. Move!"

Author's note: The end of another chapter! By the way, Santon's lab analyst Neil Coyle is based on another of my characters in Lagomorphic Reincarnation. Please review, so I can update faster! Enjoy!


	35. Chapter 35 Death Trap

Alan and his companions stood barricaded inside the farmhouse, listening to the terrorists outside, closing in for the kill. Although the house was tightly boarded up, they were completely surrounded and outnumbered at least two to one. To make matters worse, they had left the cores in the barn, completely within reach of the Red Hand thugs. Sure enough, as they watched through the crack in the window, they saw Shelton and several other men enter the barn, Shelton leading the way with some sort of GPS tracking monitor. Alan cursed under his breath, "Damn! So that's how they keep finding us all the time; those blasted cores must have a locator beacon installed in them. Damn!"

But there was no time to think about that now, as they saw the squad approach the front door. Several of the men, Alan saw, with a chill of fear, were carrying gas pellet launchers; they were going to poison gas the house to bust them out! Not a moment too soon, Shertok gave the word and the first shooter fired a pellet through the kitchen window, which broke straight through the dirty glass and landed into the old refrigerator that stood open against the wall. Seeing his chance, Alan grabbed a fistful of his clothes and clamped them over his mouth and nose to prevent inhaling any of the poisonous gas and rushed into the kitchen. Just as the pellet was about to burst, he slammed the refrigerator door shut. As he moved away, he heard a faint popping noise, followed by a light hiss, as the tear gas was released from the pellet, but couldn't escape the airtight sealing of the old fridge.

"That was a close one. We won't be able to dodge another of those buggers," he hissed to the others as they braced themselves for the next blow. This time, they were cornered for good.

Outside, Shertok stood watching the house with sickening satisfaction, expecting to hear the agonising screams of Johnson and his friends, as they got chocked up. However, to his utmost dismay, nothing happened. At that moment, Tom reappeared from the barn.

"We found Johnson's jeep in there with the cores loaded on it. We have everything, except the professor's head." Shertok frowned. Although he was most pleased to have finally recovered his late master's precious shipment, he didn't like the idea of letting Johnson walk away alive; that man knew far too much, not to mention he still had the key to power up the cores. Making up his mind, he took out a gas mask, "I am going inside to check it out. You lot wait here and guard the door. If anyone comes out besides me, kill him."

Kicking open the weatherworn front door, he entered, shutting it behind him. A semi-automatic assault rifle in his hands and a gas mask on his face, he cautiously made his way through the dark kitchen, looking for any signs of life.

From the back room, Alan, Drake, and the Watership Owsla watched in silence as Sven's entered the dark house. He saw Bigwig about to pounce at Shertok and held him back, "Don't! If he turns that rifle on you, he'll pump your guts full of lead!" Alan was temped to risk firing at Sven with his shotgun but knew that, even if he got him, the noise would bring the rest of the squad upon them instantly. If only they could provide some sort of distraction, which would allow them to reach the stairs on the other side of the room and escape to the upper floors unnoticed...

His eyes lit up at the sight of the refrigerator, which still held the gas pellet at the far end of the room. Just as Sven bent down to examine the footprints on the floor, Alan tossed a piece of gravel towards the fridge, where it bounced off the door and echoed loudly. Distracted, Sven spun round aiming at the fridge, probably thinking somebody was hiding inside it. Walking over to it, he grasped the handle with one hand, while keeping a firm grip on his gun with the other. "You are dead Johnson!" he hissed nastily and swung the door open, preparing to fire.

A cloud of asphyxiating tear gas burst out of the fridge, right into Shertok's surprised face. He staggered backwards, disorientated, trying to brush away the fumes. Unfortunately, in the darkness, Alan hadn't noticed their opponent was wearing a gas mask, and thus was immune to the gas. Thinking that Sven had been blinded, he turned to the others, whispering, "Everybody, run for it! Up the stairs!" They all run across the room towards the stairs, except for Drake, who suddenly stopped and rushed back into the room.

"Drake, what the hell are you doing, you idiot? Hurry up!" Alan hissed as he colleague frantically struggled to retrieve his valuables, "Wait, Mile's disk! We can't leave it!" Drake panted, as he hastily pocketed the disk, along with Alan's notebook, his briefcase and laptop, which he tucked under his arm. Just as he reached the foot of the stairs, Shertok regained his bearings and saw him.

Growling angrily, he aimed at Drake, but stopped short when he saw Alan aiming his own gun from the stairs. He ducked, narrowly missing Alan's bullet as it sailed an inch over his head and struck the wall. Switching his weapon to automatic mode, he bellowed, "DIE JOHNSON!" He opened fire, madly shooting all over the place, punching bullet holes all over the rotting panelling. They all fled upstairs, where Alan pushed a heavy dresser over the edge of the stairs, blocking Sven's way.

"This won't hold them back for long," he panted, as they listened to the angry shouting of Sven, who was pounding furiously at the obstacle from the other side; any moment now, it would give way and then he and his henchmen would be upon them. "Perhaps you know some other way out of this place, Drake?" he asked his colleague who replied, "There is an attic up in the roof that runs the full length of the house; I saw it when I inspected the house on the night of my arrival. We can climb up and out through the roof and make a run for it, while those scum downstairs are busy trying to force their way through." Alan sighed in relief, "Smashing. Let's go!"

Drake led the way down a dark corridor, into a bedroom that probably once belonged to Lucy Cane, where Alan spotted a trapdoor on the underside of the ceiling, just above the fireplace. Climbing up on the ancient mantelpiece, he gave it a slight push and it opened easily. Climbing up, he immediately becoming engulfed in thick, dusty cobwebs that filled the attic. Drake took a position, as he helped each rabbit climb up over his shoulders and through the trapdoor. It wasn't easy; rabbits aren't physically good climbers and combined with their massive size and weight, more than once, Drake felt his legs about to give way.

Suddenly, just as Alan was trying to pull Bigwig up, a small explosion echoed from the direction of the stairs, followed by the sound of many men running down the corridor towards the bedroom. Drake rushed forward, shut the bedroom door and bolted it. Not a second later, the terrorists were on the other side, kicking and banging on the old door, trying to force it open.

"Hurry up down there!" Alan shouted, as Drake reached up for the hatch. However Bigwig, instead of making a run for it, stood facing the door as it begun to crack open. The others yelled after him, "Bigwig, what in Frith's name are you doing? Come on!" But the mighty veteran took no notice. Just as Alan helped Drake climb up, the door burst off its hinges and landed flat on the floor.

"Come on you bastards! Let's see what you're made of!" Bigwig bellowed as he sprang at the surprised terrorists, emitting a powerful battle roar as he went. The shock of seeing a talking rabbit nearly the size of a fully-grown gorilla was exactly what Bigwig needed, and was soon caught in a furious fight with the terrorists. Having the advantage of being in a narrow corridor, where only one person could walk through at a time, he proceeded to take down the terrorists, one by one, as they came through. Confused and unable to get a clear shot at Bigwig, Sven's men were soon dropping like flies, one by one.

Just as Bigwig had taken down his forth opponent however, another assassin with a horribly scarred face, who was standing at the back of the group, climbed onto an old stool, where he had a clear shot. Taking aim, he opened fire, sending several bullets straight towards Bigwig. With a roar of pain, the injured veteran crumpled to the ground, his massive weight, combined with the weight of all his fallen opponents around him, causing the rotting floorboards to give way.

With a loud crash, the flooring disintegrated, causing Bigwig and the remaining assassins, excluding Shertok and his scarred henchman who were in the clear, to plummet into the darkness below. Shell-shocked from what they had just seen, the two remaining men looked over the edge of the hole where Bigwig and their men had fallen, "So that's what Carl was talking about; Johnson has returned with some _giant talking rabbits_. But _where _the hell did these creatures come from?" He turned to his remaining henchman, "Samir, come along! We have a slight change in plans!" They turned and headed back downstairs, where they met Shelton at the door.

"Johnson and his friends are trapped up in the attic and that traitor Drake is there with them. Surround the house and aim the tear gas towards the roof; we will gas them again and force them out. When they do, take down Johnson and Drake, but try and capture at least one of their other companions alive. I think we may have stumbled across some interesting specimen." Shelton looked confused.

"_Specimen_ sir? What are you talking about? Perhaps you've inhaled too much gas in there?" Shertok's expression turned angry, "Hold your tongue and do as you're told! You'll get to see for yourself soon enough. Remember, I want _them_ alive and nothing less!" His remaining snipers took up their positions while a group of workmen, who had arrived on Sven's request, loaded Alan's jeep onto a pickup truck, which left to return to Buxton Hall, along with the cores.

Meanwhile, up in the attic, Alan, Drake, Hazel, Fiver, Pipkin and Hawkbit were crawling through the cobweb-infested rafters, heading towards the far end of the house. They were all in low spirits for the loss of their bravest comrade. Just when fate seemed to have turned in their favour, their finest soldier had been lost to the enemy. Although Bigwig's sacrifice had given them their chance to escape this death trap, it had cost the seemingly invincible Owsla veteran, his life.

Alan could hear Fiver and Pipkin silently sobbing behind him, Hawkbit and Hazel also looking extremely depressed as they crawled alongside him, completely lost for words. But that was nothing compared to what Alan himself was feeling; although too tough to cry, he could feel a burning lump of guilt in his chest, just like when his family had been murdered, making him feel like he was being stabbed through the heart with a knife. While the rest of their lost companions still had a chance of been brought back to life by changing the future, Bigwig was unquestionably beyond help, completely gone from this world, just like Mary and Lucy…

As they reached the far end of the attic, where the roof truss faced in the direction of the woods behind the farm, from where they could make their escape, they came to a dead end. There was no window or skylight on this side of the roof, only a solid brick wall with the outline of the chimney against it and the thick oak beams that supported the rafters above their heads. They were trapped. The only windows up there were facing out the front of the house, where the terrorists were waiting for them to emerge. Alan banged on the overhead rafters, hoping they might be rotten enough for his fist to punch through the wood. But they held solid.

"All right, now what do we do? Dead end," he muttered. But Drake, who had been looking around for anything useful, pointed at, what appeared to be, John Cane's old toolkit, which lay stashed in a corner. Opening the old toolbox, they found several rusted tools. He stared back at the cobweb-infested rafters above his head in hesitation. He had never tried to crack through something so big before, at least not without explosives, and it didn't seem like the perfect moment to try; what if he cut the wrong support and the whole rooftop came crushing down on them? Just as he was thinking of any safer alternatives, Hawkbit called out, "I think I hear something moving behind here!"

Crawling up to the blackish grey buck and pressing his ear against the wall of the chimney shaft where Hawkbit was listening, he realised it was only an updraft echoing behind the wall. As he felt the structure, he realised the chimney wall was actually thinner than the outer walls, made of smaller bricks. And the chimney looked wide enough for a man to climb up. This and the toolbox gave him an idea, "Hawkbit, I think you have just found us the way out old chap." Without bothering to explain to the confused buck, he turned to Drake, "Crawl up here beside me and bring that toolbox with you. When there isn't a way out, we build it ourselves!"

Picking up a hammer and Drake a mattock, the two men attacked the chimney shaft; Drake chipped away at the mortar while Alan hammered the bricks out. Finally, after ten minutes of hard work, they had broken a gaping hole in the wall of the chimney. Shining his flashlight inside the soot-encrusted chimney, Alan saw steel bars fixed on the inside, probably used long ago by the chimney sweep. Looking up, he could see a round patch of night sky through the broken chimney pot.

"All right, Drake, you go first and try and remove that chimney pot. Careful you don't let it drop over the side or you'll have those goons upon us. Go!" Rolling up his sleeves, Drake crawled through the hole and into the chimney. As he started climbing, he was startled by several pairs of black wings, which suddenly started flapping around him; the chimney was infested with bats. Reaching the top, with some effort, he lifted the chimney pot off its frame and gently placed it on the ledge beside the chimney. Alan then passed him a useful instrument he had used during his marine career: a microscopic dentist's mirror, ideal for looking around corners undetected. Drake raised it over the top of the open chimney like a periscope and slowly turned it round, looking for anybody who could be watching the roof; the sight caused him to shudder in alarm.

"They are about to gas us again! Look out!" The words had barely left his lips, when another pellet burst through a window and landed on the floor at the far end of the attic, emitting a cloud of acidic white smoke. The gas begun to spread quickly, coming straight towards them.

"Come on, we have to get out of here fast! Move it Drake!" Alan shouted and his colleague hastily climbed out through the chimney and onto the rooftop. Fortunately, the darkness of night kept him hidden from sight from the Red Hand spectators prowling around the garden.

Grabbing Fiver, Alan crawled into the shaft and started to climb, with the rabbit clinging tight onto his friend. He could feel the young buck trembling, probably from sensing all the danger around them. Sure enough, as he paused for Fiver to climb out over his shoulders, he heard the sound of another pellet being fired into the attic, this time very close. Climbing back down to the hole for the next rabbit, he felt his eyes sting painfully, indicating the presence of tear gas. Hazel, Hawkbit and Pipkin's chocking and moaning below told him his friends were also feeling the painful effects of the gas.

Quickly slamming his eyes tightly shut to prevent being blinded, he took a breath of clean air and then, holding his breath, reached out with one arm trying to reach his trapped friends. Blindly feeling about, as far as he could reach, he felt a small paw touch his hand. Quickly grabbing hold, before he could lose it, he dragged the moaning figure towards him. As he leaned over, the bundle of documents he had taken from Sergey's ward suddenly slipped out of his jacket and disappeared down the shaft, out of reach. Ignoring the loss of all this precious evidence, he managed to get a firm grip on Pipkin. Holding the blinded and chocking dwarf rabbit around the middle, he started his ascent.

Getting Pipkin and himself up was much harder that before, since, in comparison to Fiver who was skinny, Pipkin was quite chubby even for his small size. Combined with Alan's muscular trunk, they were cramped tight like sardines in a tin. Just as he thought he'd suffocate, he reached the opening, where Drake and Fiver pulled them out onto the roof. Drake took out his bottle of water and rinsed out Pipkin and Alan's eyes, restoring their eyesight.

Alan swallowed gulps of clean air and was about to climb back down to help the others as well, but Drake held him back. "Alan, no! You can't go back down there again or you'll get killed!" Alan however, saw Fiver's sobbing face, "Alan, we can't leave my brother and Hawkbit down there! Please, we have to help them!" Realising his friend's pain and refusing to lose another comrade on his watch, Alan fought to shake off Drake, who was desperately struggling to restrain him, "Alan, don't be a fool! You'll never make it! Stop!"

Before Alan could warn Drake to keep his voice down, they heard Sven's shouting from the yard below, "There they are! Take them boys!" His terrorists opened fire, causing Alan and his group to duck behind the other side of the roof, to avoid being shot. Unfortunately, the roof was icy from the cold, causing them to slip and lose their balance; they slid down the side of the roof, narrowly avoiding falling to their deaths, when Alan managed to grab hold of the drain pipe, with Drake, Fiver and Pipkin holding onto his legs. Just as he thought his arms would pop off his shoulders under the strain, the corroded drainpipe, unable to support all that weight, came loose from its bolts, sending them crashing into some bushes behind the farmhouse.

No sooner had they gotten to their feet, than they heard Sven's men approaching. Not waiting to be surrounded by a squad of armed terrorists, they turned run for their lives, heading towards the woods, Sven and his henchmen in hot pursuit. Unfortunately, Alan didn't notice that, in the confusion, he had dropped the key to the cores, which now lay on the snow beside the collapsed drainpipe. Giving his companions the word to split up, to confuse their pursuers, they ran through the trees, heading towards the road on the other side of the woods.

Suddenly, just as he crossed the woods into the field beyond, Alan heard Pipkin cry out, "Help! Alan, help me!" Rushing towards their friend's voice, they saw Pipkin had fallen into the disused farm well. Although it was empty, it was deep enough to trap an animal, even a giant rabbit of Pipkin's size.

Ignoring the danger of the approaching terrorists, Alan rushed to his little friend's aid. Bending over the mouth of the well, he reached down, grabbed hold of Pipkin and pulled him out. Unfortunately, their delay had allowed Sven's men to catch up. Suddenly, Alan felt a searing pain right above his elbow, as a poisonous dart struck his right arm. Turning round, he saw a terrorist brandishing a dart gun, yelling, "I got him!" Alan raised his revolver and next second, the terrorist crumpled to the ground dead.

Grabbing hold of the dart that was spreading poison through his body, he pulled it out. But he knew it was already too late; an unpleasant tingling sensation was slowly spreading from the wound, up his arm. A quick glance at the inscription on the dart confirmed his worst fears; he had been injected with Agent Neuron, the nerve toxin that Robbins had used to kill Miles, the one Shertok had also threatened him with, while in custody. Robbins's words flashed back in his mind: _"When injected, even with a minor dose, within a few hours you start feeling disorientated, delirious, paralysis, coma and finally death. Most deadly and no antidote." _Alan's heart sank as he realised, with dread, his lifeline was on a countdown. However, there was no time to think about that now, as his gunshot had alerted the rest of the squad.

Quickly picking up Pipkin, they took cover in a ditch with the rest of their companions, just as Shertok and Shelton appeared on the scene. Ignoring the corpse of their fallen henchman, the two partners stared at all the footprints Alan had made in the snow.

"Look," Sven said gleefully, as he spotted the bloodstained dart that lay beside Alan's tracks, "If it got him, he'll be a corpse in two hours. Don't touch it!" he added, as Shelton bent down to pick it up by the sharp end, "There could still be poison left in it you know!" Another man appeared from the bushes, "Boss, we found two of Johnson's companions gassed up in the attic. You should come look at this; it's incredible." Shelton turned to Shelton, "Pass the word to clean up all traces of our visit and prepare for departure. We are going back to headquarters to examine that new specimen at our leisure."

"What about Johnson? He's escaped again…" asked Shelton. But Sven only sneered, "He'll soon be dead anyway no matter where he goes; we needn't bother with him any more. As long as he can't talk, he's no threat. They will probably find his frozen body by tomorrow and assume he died from exposure. And look…" he said, showing them the key to the cores he had found on the ground nearby, "Johnson dropped it back there; we finally have everything we need to get back on schedule." They turned and left. After making sure they were gone, a thoroughly downcast Alan, Pipkin, Fiver, and Dr Drake swiftly and quietly headed off in the opposite direction, towards the road.

Meanwhile, Santon and his deputy Coyle were on their way to Nuthanger Farm. As they drove along, Santon explained to Coyle, "I have found evidence that Officer Shertok may be a mole in league with a secret terrorist faction and that Dr Johnson may be targeted because he knows of their plans. It seems that Dr Drake also knows about the plot and is hiding at that deserted farm. Our mission is to find them and take them into _protective_ custody."

"You do realise sir, that the arrest warrant for Johnson issued by the Yard still stands?" Coyle asked his boss sternly. Although a fine police officer, he was a fanatic stickler for regulations, despite his young age, "We shall still have to detain Johnson and treat him in every way as a murder suspect, until further orders. And should he resist arrest, we shall have to use blunt force. He'll be lucky if our superiors don't order any harsher methods of capture, given his escape this afternoon. If Commissioner Shertok proves to be clean, he might also be changed for assaulting him…"

"We will be going by the book Neil; needn't you worry. However, this time, Johnson's story will be thoroughly checked and every single person he names will be investigated, starting with Commissioner Shertok. The Yard has assigned us the task of solving this case and that's exactly what I intend to do. We are coming in now." Moving past a large pick-up truck that was heading in the opposite direction, the police van turned into the path that led to Nuthanger Farm. Little did they realise that that truck held Alan's battered jeep with the cores, the bodies of Sven's men, as well as two giant rabbits in a box, much less that Commissioner Shertok was in fact the_ driver_.

The police van pulled over by the collapsed gate and Santon and Coyle stormed the farm. The Inspector's first impression as they entered the farmhouse was that they were looking in the wrong place, for the farm appeared utterly deserted. Then, suddenly, their flashlights revealed something white lying in the grate of the kitchen fireplace. It was a bundle of crumpled documents coated in soot from the chimney, which blended in with the darkness and thus, had been overlooked by Sven's men.

The inspector picked up the papers and brought them close to a patch of light. A frown formed across his stern face, as he read Miles Millard's confession; if this letter was genuine, then it had just shed light on the entire mystery, perfectly mirroring Johnson's statement. Suddenly, Coyle's voice broke him out of his trance, "Inspector, come here! I found something!"

He followed his deputy towards a wine cellar under the stairs, which was badly wrecked, the ceiling having caved in during a struggle. Looking to where Coyle was pointing, he saw something that took their breath away.

"Holy Mother of Christ!" he muttered as they both stared at a giant, semiconscious rabbit with a patch of thick fur between his ears, lying injured and bleeding in the shadows amidst the collapsed debris. Seeing the buck's heavy injuries, the inspector turned to Coyle, "Help me get this…creature into the van at once; we are taking him to a trustworthy paramedic for treatment. And Coyle, you have these documents shipped to the lab for fingerprint and handwriting identification," he said, passing Coyle the documents, "And remember, this is to remain completely confidential until further notice."

Moving the unconscious Bigwig back to their van, Santon and Coyle took off, heading for Newtown Common. Coyle turned to his boss, who was driving anxiously at full speed, "What are we doing, sir? You know, the Chief Inspector will have our heads for failing to report the findings from a crime scene. We could both be arrested for aiding and abetting a fugitive…"

"Neil, I have known you for ten years lad; I know you respect the law and wouldn't break it for your own gain. However, sometimes the heart of our job requires some…independent action. Johnson must have kept the existence of these creatures hidden for a reason; until we find out what this is all about, I will insist we maintain that secrecy. I am not suggesting we attempt and conceal Johnson; we can always report everything, once we know the full story behind this business. Besides, what exactly are we suppose to do? Say we have a talking rabbit the size of a man, which was apparently aiding Johnson? We'd probably both end up sharing a padded cell in a mental hospital!"

"So what exactly do you propose we do, sir? That…_thing_ in the back will be dead soon anyway, without medical aid. Whom are we supposed to turn to, if we are to keep a lid on this?" But Santon had already worked it all out.

"Back at headquarters, I inspected the clothes Johnson was wearing when we took him into custody. Remember, when he swapped them with the Commissioner's uniform to escape? I cast a glimpse at the nametag and saw it spelled a Mr _James McEwen_. It would seem our fugitive must have visited the McEwen residence sometime during his disappearance; his family might know something, maybe even about our friend in the back. I believe Mrs McEwen is also a veterinarian; if she already knows the secret, then she is just the person to turn to."

Meanwhile, out in the fields, just outside Sydmonton, Alan and his three remaining companions stopped under some trees to catch their breath. Although having saved their skins, they had failed…again. Bigwig, a natural survivor and dedicated warrior, had been lost to the enemy. He had sacrificed his life in hopes of giving his comrades a chance to escape, yet Alan had been unable to honour that sacrifice. Even Hazel, their brave, noble leader and Hawkbit, a sarcastic complainer yet a loyal follower, had also been lost to the Red Hand Brotherhood. To make matters worse, Alan now had yet another problem to worry about…

The toxin in his bloodstream was quickly acting; he could already feel a slight twitching in his muscles as if he had Parkinson's disease, and beginning to feel disorientation and fatigue. Although not physically painful, the thought of abandoning his remaining friends alone in a world where they didn't belong was nothing short of mental torture. Pipkin, sweet, innocent little Pipkin, who had become like a son to him, left alone in an unfamiliar world filled with dangers beyond imagination? And Fiver, who looked up to Alan as a brother, left on his own with nowhere to go? How could he explain to his two rabbit friends that soon they'd be completely on their own in this strange human world?

As if sensing his anxiety, Fiver, who was sobbing softly for the loss of his brother, nudged him on the shoulder, "Alan, are you all right? Are you injured?" he asked timidly, noticing Alan cradling his right arm, right over the spot where the dart had struck him. Although he hated to break the news that would definitely crush his friends' already diminished spirit, he couldn't postpone the unavoidable any longer.

"Fiver, I…I am going to die," he muttered, causing his three companions to look back at him in shock.

"What? Alan, we are all saddened by the loss of our friends, but we have to keep going," Fiver said, "Don't you remember what Bigwig said?" But Alan shook his head miserably as he showed them the dart wound, "Back there, they hit me with a dart containing that nerve toxin that Robbins told us about at Cowslip's warren. I've only got a short time left to live. I need to make arrangements for your safety before I am gone. Listen, you need to…" But Fiver and Pipkin cut him off, "No! Alan, we can't let that happen! You can't die! We need you, now more than ever!"

"I am sorry Fiver, but it's hopeless. Robbins himself confirmed that there is no antidote. As much as I hate to say this, death is close for me." The two rabbits however, remained defiant, "No, there has to be some way! Robbins got you in the heart with that fire stick, yet you survived. And when I was hurt from that…poisonous quill, you managed to keep me alive until we could reach help; Josie said it was incredible that I survived," Fiver said staring at Alan, directly in the eye along with Pipkin, "Please Alan, you can't leave us on our own now! You must think about surviving!" Before Alan could express his regret however, Drake interrupted, "What sort of nerve toxin did you say it was?"

Alan told him everything Robbins and Shertok had told him about Agent Neuron and it's effects on victims. Despite it only being general information, Dr Drake had a hopeful expression written on his face as he narrowed his eyes in deep thinking, "All biochemical agents that aren't too quick acting can have an antidote developed; that's why the military keeps asking for new bio-weapons all the time." Knowing Drake's extraordinary expertise in molecular biology, a tiny ray of hope blossomed inside Alan's heart. "Do you really think you could develop an antidote in such a short time?"

"I see no reason why not. However, I am going to need a vital ingredient to determine the correct molecular structure: an uncontaminated sample of the toxin. But from where?" Alan and the rabbits were about to lose hope, when suddenly Alan remembered; the syringe he had stolen from Sven back in police custody, contained a clean sample of the same biochemical agent. He had the vital ingredient to his survival right on him! Quickly taking the syringe out of his pocket, he handed it to Drake, who smiled, "You truly are the luckiest man on Earth Alan, you know that? Up in Sydmonton is my house, where I have a lab with all the essentials. And we have the vital ingredient right here. Let's go!"

Helping a rapidly weakening Alan to his feet, the group of four set off for the village of Sydmonton, heading towards Drake's house, where they hoped to develop an antidote for Alan before it was too late…

Author's note: So now Alan is at Death's door…again. Will Drake be able to produce an antidote in time, or Fiver and Pipkin with be left on their own in the human world? And are Hazel and Hawkbit alive or dead? Please review so I can update sooner! Thanks to those who have read my story so far!


	36. Chapter 36 An Echo and A Disk

Night had fallen by the time Drake, Alan, Fiver and Pipkin reached Sydmonton. The high street was deserted and silent but the streetlights burned brightly. As they headed towards Drake's cottage, Alan staggered and fell to his knees; the nerve toxin was acting fast and mercilessly, draining him of his body energy, ounce by ounce, like blood leaking from an open wound. Fiver and Drake helped the dying man up, "Hang on Alan! We are almost there," muttered Drake as he held Alan's arm over his shoulder to support him. Fiver and Pipkin struggled to support their friend from the other side, silently praying, "Frith, val mon rusatitha!"

Drake's home was an elegant Victorian cottage surrounded by a garden, which was now overrun by snow. The four companions ascended the steps to the porch where Drake whipped out a key and they entered, locking the door behind them. Quickly, he led them down to the basement, into a laboratory equipped with lots of state-of-the-art equipment and supplies. While the two rabbits gently laid Alan down onto the worktable, Drake filled a syringe with some sort of formula and gave Alan a shot, "This should act as a stabilizer in your system and slow down the effects of the toxin. I hope it can buy us enough time to produce the antidote."

While Pipkin sat beside Alan, keeping him company, Fiver assisted Drake best he could, despite the fact he didn't understand half the things he was telling him to do. The scientist moved swiftly around the lab, loading ingredients and equipment onto a trolley. Bringing everything back to the worktable, he began carefully mixing different formulas, while carefully monitoring the molecular integrity simulation on a computer screen, as it analysed the toxin sample, allowing him to determine the correct structure for the antidote.

An hour and a half later, after having run several failed serums through the simulation, Drake placed the fifth experimental antidote into the analyser and run a test. The computer slowly analysed the integrity and computed the results. Just as he was about to announce another failure, the computer gave him a green light, indicating a stable molecular structure; he had found the correct formula for an antidote! Overwhelmed with joy, Drake punched into the computer Alan's blood type, age, weight, and all the data needed to calculate the correct dose needed to neutralise the toxin. Fiver rushed back to the table where Pipkin sat beside their dying friend, to deliver the news.

By now, Alan was truly in a bad state, the toxin having entered its final stages: he was deathly pale, his muscles twitching violently, faint moans of pain emitting from his mouth, as he struggled to breathe. As a crying Pipkin bent over him while begging him to hold on, the man weakly stroked the young buck that he had come to love like a son; if he was going to die, then he might as well show his beloved Pipkin some care. The young buck's face loomed in and out of focus, as the lab started spinning all around him. Everything was dissolving into a blur of shifting colours, growing darker and darker by the second. His chest felt like lead as his nerve system was failing, shutting down his internal organs and paralysing his muscles, making it impossible for him to breathe anymore…

Drake was just removing the phial containing the new serum from the radiation oven with a pair of tweezers, when Fiver called to him from the table, "How much longer? I don't think he's breathing any more!" Drake doubled his efforts, "Just a few more minutes. I need to run a final test to confirm the serum is safe or it could kill him." But Fiver shook his head.

"There is no more time! If he doesn't take that remedy now, the Black Rabbit will have him!" Drake turned and looked at Alan; it was clear that a few more minutes and there would only be a corpse on that table. Making up his mind, Drake took out a syringe and filled it with the untested serum. "Here goes nothing. I hope it's good, or it might reduce him to a sizzling pile of flesh." Pipkin whimpered at the thought but Fiver confidently held his breath as Drake injected the now comatose Alan with the untested antidote.

Finished administering the antidote, he took out a small oxygen cylinder and proceeded to ventilate Alan with it, sending clean air into his oxygen-deprived lungs and brain. They all sat waiting, not daring to utter a word, praying that the untested serum would work. But Alan remained pale and motionless, like the dead…

Meanwhile, not too far away, in a dark basement room at Buxton Hall, Hazel slowly regained consciousness. His eyes felt extremely sore and even his sense of smell seemed to have weakened, an after-effect of being exposed to the tear gas for too long. He couldn't remember what had happened or how he got there, his memory a total blank. As he tried to stand, his head banged against a hard surface above him. As his eyesight and sense of smell slowly returned, he realised he was trapped inside a cage made of some strong 'shiny material' that seemed to be used for many objects in the human world. Then he realised he wasn't alone; Hawkbit lay beside him, slowly regaining consciousness. There was no sign of any of their other companions.

Fighting the strong urge to panic from being trapped (a rabbit's natural instinct), the blank spots in his memory slowly began to clear; he remembered the poisonous gas engulfing them and his eyes and nose start burning. Blindly, he had struggled to crawl away, only to hit dead ends everywhere. Then he had heard voices approaching before someone forcefully grabbed him. Despite his blindness and pain, he had struggled furiously, until another attacker had hit him with some sort of weapon, which had sent a painful sensation through his body (a stun gun), and then everything had gone black. Now he had finally come to, only to find himself trapped in an unfamiliar place with no idea of his companions' situation.

He tried to bite through the bars of the cage, only to discover it was completely solid and impossible to penetrate. Exhausted and with his gums starting to bleed, he gave up and turned to tend to Hawkbit instead. The blackish grey buck didn't seem to be badly hurt, but was hardly a sight for sore eyes; multiple scratches and bruises covered his face and paws and his eyes and nose were bloodshot from exposure to the tear gas. After a few minutes of nuzzling him and licking at his wounds, his friend slowly got back his bearings and was soon also aware of their situation. "H…Hazel? What happened? How did we get here? Where are the others?" he groaned, staring at the dismal surroundings of their small prison and starting to feel alarmed.

Before Hazel could reply however, a door swung open and someone switched on a light. The rabbits froze with dread as Shertok and several of his men entered and crowded around the cage, staring at their captives as if they were some fascinating zoo exhibit, "So, our guests are finally awake. About time too, we have been waiting long enough," Shertok sneered with glee, staring at the two giant rabbits as if they were some priceless bounty as he addressed them in a sickly sweet voice.

"Where is my brother? What have you done with him?" Hazel shouted, glaring at Sven. The leader terrorist only chuckled nastily, "I suppose he is out there somewhere, perhaps mourning over your dear friend Alan's dead body." Hazel's face contorted with fury at Sven's cruel taunting but felt slightly relieved that at least Fiver and Pipkin had escaped. Sven, apparently reading their minds, sneered nastily, "Your noble protector fled mortally injured and with no hope of survival, regardless of any help he may find." Hawkbit uttered a string of Lapine profanities, which would have translated into rather offending language in English. Although not knowing a single word of Lapine, Sven got the jest and frowned, "Hassan, teach this furball a lesson in manners!" he ordered.

The terrorist Hassan approached the cage and touched the tip of a taser to the bars; as the entire cage was made of steel, the rabbits were completely exposed. In an instant, both Hawkbit and Hazel were screaming in agony as the electric current zapped them painfully, slowly causing their fur to start smoking. The man kept the torture up for nearly two minutes before Sven gave the order to stop. "Enough. Their value drops if you fry them to death." He turned back to the panting rabbits.

"You two furballs better watch your mouths! It is most unwise to anger me. Your friend Alan did; and that's why we had to kill him and his family," he sneered nastily, his sickly mind working furiously on the most effective method of coaxing his two prisoners into submission, "And you'll find exactly the same rule applies to all animals in our world. I don't know where you two come from, but here they are all highly inferior to humans and either obey us or suffer the consequences. However," he went on, his oily voice turning sickly sweet again, "Since you possess this rare privilege that only humans are meant to have, I am willing to offer you an alternative you can't possibly refuse."

"Like what? You have nothing that could interest us," snapped Hawkbit, glaring back at Sven with intense hatred, yet Hazel could see a faint twitch under his jaw, indicating he was scared at the thought of what Sven intended to do to them if they refused to do as they were told.

"Oh, but I do," replied Sven in a sickly sweet voice, "As I just said, your kind are hated, hunted and killed in this world. And given your _special_ abilities of speech and intelligence, if you were seen out there you'd be dead or worse. I have the power to spare you that particular fate; instead of leaving you at the mercy of this cruel world, I can offer you a place among our ranks. You are presented with an opportunity that very few animals ever get. We are both on the same side, big fellow. Both of us are hunted by the outside world and have suffered because of it. The world that Alan had shown you is your _true_ enemy, just as much as it is ours. All I ask from you is your obedience and cooperation. What do you say?"

Although it seemed to work, as Hawkbit and Hazel stared at each other, as if considering Sven's offer, the man was thoroughly disappointed when the two rabbits gave him a cold stare, "I am afraid we must disclaim your…_generous_ offer," Hazel said coldly. "As far as I recall, so far you and your friends have done us nothing but harm. Robbins showed no remorse in killing off so many of our friends, claiming we had no right to _exist_ in the first place. Alan lost his family to you, while he had done you no harm and, not to mention how you treated us back at Nuthanger Farm. You didn't seem too keen and accepting us as your 'allies' back then, were you?"

"I admit, my men and I went a little over the edge at that point, but we…" Sven protested, trying desperately to gain Hazel's trust, but the Chief Rabbit would hear none of it, "And you have the nerve of calling yourself a _patriotic protector_? You are nothing but a sadistic, cowardly murderer with a bunch of sidekicks you bribe to do your bidding!" he spat coldly, "_Alan_ is our true friend and protector who, in contrast to you, deserves our friendship and I will have the pleasure of seeing him triumph over you some day. Mark my words!" he replied with such fierce loyalty that would have made Alan very proud, had he been there to hear him. Sven sneered evilly, not unlike Robbins.

"Stupid overgrown animal. Don't you understand? Your pathetic friend Alan is dead! I never had the impression the dead can harm the living. Unless, maybe his ghost decides to come back and haunt me?" The other men laughed cruelly at their boss's sickening humour.

Sven turned to his assistant and whispered into his ear, "Activate the hidden microphone, so we can overhear everything they say when they are alone. We still don't know where they come from and how much they know. If we find they know any interesting information, we can interrogate them by torture or truth agent." The man nodded and left to set up the bugging devise, while Sven turned to face the rabbits in their cage, "We'll give you some time of privacy to reconsider your options. For your sakes, I suggest you choose wisely." Without another word, he turned and left, leaving Hazel and Hawkbit alone in the confinement of their small prison, neither of them knowing that every word they said was being monitored…

Elsewhere, Bigwig slowly and weakly opened his eyes, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings. He was lying on some sort of soft white material, which resembled goose down (an infirmary bed). He felt weak and sore, almost as if someone had beaten him to a pulp. He could vaguely remember being hit with a fire stick, falling through the floor and barely managing to crawl away and hide before passing out. As he tried inhaling, he felt a sharp pain in his side where a bullet had struck him, but luckily had not hit any organs. Staring down at himself, he realised there were bandages all over his body, dressing the bullet wound in his side and another on his left shoulder. Where was he? Had his friends brought him here?

At that moment, a door opened and in walked no other than Santon, the man that had tried to arrest Alan that morning! Bigwig, instantly recognising him, sprang to his feet, desperately trying to ignore his pain and lack of strength, "What are _you_ doing here? I'll break every bone in your body if you come any closer!" Inspector Santon stopped dead in his tracks, probably afraid that the infuriated human-sized rabbit would spring at him and maul him, "Take it easy big fella, I mean you no harm! I just want to talk…"

"To interrogate me about my friends' whereabouts, you embleer ithe? Like I am going to tell you! Now out of my way before I lose my temper!" Bigwig bellowed, about to spring at Santon. Before he could pounce however, the door opened again and in came non other than Josie. Although confused by her presence here, Bigwig maintained his guard as the veterinarian stepped between him and Santon, "It's all right Bigwig, he means no harm. How do you feel?"

Quickly regaining his composure, he turned to Josie, "Where are Alan and the others? How did I get here? Were they captured? And what in Frith's name, is _he_ doing here?" Josie carefully tried to calm him down, "Take it easy Bigwig; you are badly hurt. Inspector Santon found you unconscious at Nuthanger Farm and brought you here. You're extremely lucky to be alive after being shot like that." Bigwig felt more perplexed than ever.

"_He_ got me out of there? But he tried to arrest Alan today; he's after us! How can I trust him?" the veteran growled, not sparing Santon so much as a glance. The inspector, desperate to get to the point, cleared his throat, "Yes, I brought you here. And I need your help to find Alan and the rest of your friends, fast. There are in great danger," he said, trying to get Bigwig's attention.

"Well, thanks for the obvious," said Bigwig sarcastically, still distrustful of Santon, "And what's our welfare to you…Santon, isn't?" The inspector took a moment for Bigwig to calm down and listen, before launching into his explanation, "When we had Alan in custody earlier today, he told me all about the Red Hand Brotherhood that is after him. I didn't believe his story then but now I have found evidence that supports it. And I also happen to have information about you and where you come from," he continued, causing Bigwig to curse under his breath, "Now, if there is some doomsday weapon out there about to be set off, then it is my duty to help you stop it."

"And how do I know you aren't a spy who is trying to_ use_ me to get to Alan? If you think I could be manipulated by a…" Bigwig snarled, but Josie cut him off, "Bigwig please, he is our best chance; Alan can't possibly take down the entire faction on his own. We have no choice but to trust him, at least for the time being. Please, for your friends' sake, tell him what happened. He already knows too much for us to keep the secret any longer." Feeling defeated, Bigwig sighed, "Fine, I'll tell him. However," he continued turning to Santon, "if you give me one reason to believe that your intentions aren't as good as you say, I swear you will live to curse the day you were born!"

"Then I guess I have nothing to fear. Right then, whatever-your-name-is, you've got one hour to present your story," replied Santon, checking his watch, "Fire away!" Bigwig told them how far he and his friends had gotten and what had happened to them. Santon listened carefully, feeling rage boil up inside him as Bigwig's story confirmed that Sven Shertok was indeed a traitor working for Red Hand; a rage that turned to a chill of horror as Bigwig informed them that Sven now had the cores back in his possession.

Back in Sydmonton, Alan slowly opened his eyes, feeling sore and weak. His blurred vision slowly cleared and Drake's lab came back into focus. He could hear sad desperate voices all around him, one of which he recognised as Fiver's, talking to Drake, "Are you completely sure? Please, just try one more time. He can't be dead!" As Alan stared, he felt something warm and rather wet on his shoulder; Pipkin was huddled up against his seemingly lifeless body, crying softly like a child that had just lost his only parent. Drake was standing beside the worktable, staring at Fiver sadly, "I am sorry lad, but we are too late. We did our best; there is nothing more we can do for him…"

"And for that, I thank you," muttered Alan as he finally regained enough strength to move his tongue. He raised his arm to hug Pipkin, who, realising he was awake, instantly huddled up tightly against him as if scared he'd lose him again, crying with joy and relief, "Oh Alan, you're alright! I thought we had lost you…"

In an instant, Fiver had also thrown himself at Alan, "Oh thank Frith and all Prince Rainbow's messengers! I knew you'd pull through!" The professor gently patted the buck's head, feeling slightly guilty as he remembered that Hazel, Bigwig and Hawkbit had died, while he had survived another close shave…again. As he turned, he spotted Drake standing alone with a thin smile on his face. Alan didn't need to ask why; his colleague, still guilt-ridden for betraying him and his family to Red Hand had finally been given a chance for redemption by saving his life. Slowly getting to his feet, he walked up to Drake.

"Cole, if it hadn't been for you, all chances for saving the future would now be lost. You have done me, done _us_ all, a great service and for that, I forgive you for betraying my family." Drake nodded grimly, "Least I could do; I still think it doesn't excuse what I did. If you still need my help, don't hesitate to ask for it." At these words, Alan remembered the cores were back in the possession of Red Hand so that Project Black Inferno was probably being prepared for launch…again. He paled; if Red Hand got their way, then their intended era of world terrorism would commence, unquestionably altering the future for the worst.

"We have to act without delay," he muttered in an urgent whisper, sitting up, "Red Hand now have the cores and could launch Project Black Inferno at any moment. We have no choice left but to storm Buxton Hall directly. We must move now!"

"We wouldn't stand a chance," Drake said sharply, "My father's estate is an impenetrable fortress with colossal security; it's suicide going there! What about Miles' disk? We haven't lost _that_ yet," he said, taking out the small disk from his pocket. "If we can log into the M.O.D. database, to crack the encryption and read the files, we could then use it as evidence. It's preferable to a pointless suicide mission to breach the safehouse of the most dangerous terrorist faction in England."

Although it seemed the safest solution, Alan felt unsure. With the terrorists already in possession of both the probe and the cores, time was dangerously critical. Even if the disk could be deciphered in time, he still didn't think it would be enough to convince the authorities to sound a Code Red in time, not without endless further inquiries, for which they couldn't spare time right now. "How much time to you reckon, will it take you to crack it?" he asked his colleague.

"I don't know. My son knows much more about computers than me and now he isn't..." He broke off with a slight sob, remembering his family were dead, "We can use his computer to run the disk and hope his software is powerful enough to crack it. It could take two hours, maybe four." Alan shook his head at Drake, "We can't risk that much time. Project Black Inferno could be launched by then, and it will be too late. Unless…" he said, as he suddenly remembered another possible piece of reliable evidence that was still out there.

"I have just been thinking about something Julio told us just before the flight to New Forest: our aircraft had been fitted with a new, experimental flight recorder, which must be still aboard our plane wreckage. If all radio conversation made during the flight was recorded in that black box…"

"What is a black box?" asked Pipkin, his eternal childish curiosity alight. Despite the interruption, Alan smiled at his little friend's eternal curiosity, "A black box is an devise that stores the voices of the pilots, like a memory echo. Now, as I was saying, when Robbins and Vervain salvaged the plane and flew to Efrafa, their conversation must have also been recorded. What if there is some unintended testimony from Robbins himself, about Red Hand's plot to murder me and my family?"

"But suppose there wasn't anything useful recorded? And what about protecting the secrecy of the future?" asked Drake as Alan stared back at him.

"What if we can't decipher Miles' disk in time? Remember, every passing moment is vital; if Project Black Inferno is launched, protecting the future wouldn't matter. All right, I'll go back to the crash site and try and recover that recorder, before Red Hand remembers it. You stay here with Fiver and Pipkin and try to sort out the disk while I am gone…"

"Wait, Pipkin and I should come with you. We shouldn't separate anymore," said Fiver, stepping forward. Alan wanted to argue that it would safer for the two rabbits to remain here since Red Hand was probably still after them, while he was presumed dead. In the end, he decided to let Pipkin tag along for company while Fiver volunteered to stay with Drake and keep watch for trouble, using his sixth sense.

"You can use my car to return the crash site. And in the closet just off the hallway, there should be a bag with scuba gear you can use," Drake said, as he sat at his son's computer desk in the lounge to start working on deciphering Miles' encrypted disk. Alan took out a loaded revolver from his backpack and placed it on the table beside Drake, "Just in case you and Fiver encounter any trouble in my absence. Just aim straight at your opponent's chest and pull the trigger, without looking into his eyes. Remember, Fiver can sense imminent danger, so if he says there's trouble, you both get the hell out of here and meet me at Josie McEwen's house in Newtown Common."

Walking over to the closet in the hallway and took out a diver's dry suit, a weight belt, an underwater flashlight and a knife. Then, he and Pipkin went into Drake's garage when they found the scientist's Benz waiting. Five minutes later, they were speeding along the road towards Sandleford Park, where their plane had gone down the other night.

Meanwhile, in a dungeon at Buxton Hall, Hazel and Hawkbit lay strapped down on two operating tables that resembled a butcher's counter from all the dried-up bloodstains of past victims. Strong wire restraints had been attached to their paws, waists and necks, binding them painfully to the rough surface.

After leaving the two rabbits alone for a while, Sven and his men had returned, removed their two prisoners from the cage and taken them to another room for interrogation. Their captor had returned with a horribly scarred man, carrying a large leather satchel. The man opened the satchel revealing a vast collection of surgery tools, truth agents, and other torture equipment. The sight of all those sharp implements sent chills down the rabbits' spines, as they realised the horrible predicament they were in for. Sven cleared his throat.

"This is Samir, who will be your interrogator. A truly remarkable fellow; never fails to extract every last ounce of information from prisoners under his care," said Sven gleefully, "Being brutally scarred by police hounds in his youth, gives him the desire for inflicting the most painful torture on humans and animals alike. You'll be enjoying his company tonight, before the ribbon-cutting for the launch of Project Black Inferno at midnight."

"Will you look at all these scars Hazel? No wonder that fellow hates everyone; it is because his face is uglier than that of an old lendri!" whispered Hawkbit sarcastically, yet rather louder than he had intended to. Hazel hissed at Hawkbit to shut up, but the damage had been done; Samir ugly face contorted with fury as he hissed, "You two are going to wish you were stew in a pot, long before I am through with you!"

To their horror, Sven had somehow overheard everything that they had been chatting about while in the cage (by means of the hidden microphone) and proceeded to interrogate them for further information based on the leads he had gotten so far, while Samir, merciless in the extreme, proceeded to inflict pain, by means of a live electric circuit fed through electric terminals attached to their binds, like an electric chair.

Sickeningly amused at the sight, Sven sat in a chair with a voice recorder by his side, asking questions, while the torturer stood on standby. Each time the two rabbits refused to talk or gave an unsatisfactory answer, Sven would snap his fingers and next second, either Hazel or Hawkbit would be subjected to the intense pain of electrocution. Although fortunately not powerful enough to kill, it was quickly draining them of their strength, like an open wound leaking blood. Soon, their fur and skin was starting to smoke and sizzle, their internal organs slowly cooking.

After keeping up the torture long enough to have the two rabbits panting in agony, Sven would order the laughing torturer to take a break for coffee, before resuming questioning his two prisoners that were quickly losing the strength to hold their silence any longer; questions about their world, their relationship with Alan, Robbins' fate, and anything else he believed would be of some importance.

"So, you say that your world will exist sometime in the _future_. And what happens to humanity? How will your kind come to dominate the Earth?" he asked, slowly beginning to realise that these giant rabbits would someday replace the human race, "What about this General Woundwort that Robbins formed an alliance with? Did he control Project Black Inferno in the future? Well, out with it!"

"Silflay hraka, embleer ithe!" Hawkbit spat at Sven, who frowned at the insult, yet didn't order his henchman to restart the current, "Samir, time we switch tactics. Fetch the tub; a few minutes of drowning them in boiling water should loosen their tongues." The man sneered evilly and left. Sven, now having realised (or at least suspected) that these giant rabbits would someday overthrow humanity, turned back to his two prisoners.

"You two damned creatures are about to feel the wrath of man! Since it is your kind that will destroy humanity someday, then I might as well take the initiative to sort out this little…inconvenience. Mark my words, after I've gotten all the information I need out of you, I will have the power to reshape the future to my own accord; a future _without_ your kind. As soon as I have traced your source of origin, I will eliminate it and you and your kind will never exist. Ah, here comes Samir now…"

The brutal torturer had returned, dragging an old bathtub filled with boiling water, mixed with a highly alkaline soap to give the victim horrible eye irritations. Sven sneered cruelly, "Strap the greyish one onto the plank; let's see if his Chief will prove more cooperative as we torture his big-mouthed sidekick."

Removing Hawkbit from the interrogation table, Samir dragged him by the ears and slammed him down onto a seesaw-like plank on the edge of the tub. Raising one side up, he submerged the helpless rabbit headfirst into the boiling water. A large amount of bubbles coming from Hawkbit's mouth indicated the greyish buck was screaming in agony, boiling and drowning at the same time. Seeing he had no options left and fearful for Hawkbit's life, Hazel spilled everything he had managed to avoid answering so far, including the fact that Drake was their destined creator. To his utmost relief, Sven motioned to Samir to spare Hawkbit only seconds before he could drown, before turning his attention back to Hazel and renewing his questions.

Meanwhile, Alan and Pipkin had returned to Sutch and Martin's Flight Club, where the Cessna wreck lay submerged into the frozen lake just outside the fence. The trail formed in the snow as well as the hole in the ice had since disappeared from the snowfall, covering up all traces of the crash. Alan, wearing an under-ice dry suit was ready to take the plunge through a new hole he had cut in the ice. As he approached the edge of the ice sheet however, Pipkin suddenly grabbed a mouthful of the man's trouser leg, trying to hold him back.

"Alan, please be careful. I don't want to see you get hurt," pleaded the dwarf rabbit. The professor bent down to hug him, "We must recover that flight recorder; it may be our best chance of alerting the authorities before it's too late. I need you to wait here and keep a sharp lookout. I'll be back in two minutes." Giving the small rabbit one last hug, he put on his mask and turned on his flashlight. Taking a deep breath, he jumped through the hole. He was instantly submerged into the ice-cold water, but this time the dry suit protected him from the dangers of exposure.

Shining his flashlight, the battered fuselage of the crashed aircraft loomed into view before him. Swimming up to the open door, he shone his flashlight into the empty cabin. Pushing aside the collapsed pilot's seat, he swam inside, reaching for the tail shaft. The light of his flashlight fell upon opening to the tail shaft, where the control cables linked up to the rudder and elevator. Sliding his arm inside the small hole, he felt around for the flight recorder, but instead found something else lying forgotten in the baggage locker …

He pulled out a familiar journalist's bag from the tail shaft, where it had apparently been hidden by its owner for safekeeping; it was Robbins' bag, containing the assassin's journal with all the information on his mission to kill Alan, as well as what had happened to them in the future. Tucking the bag under his arm, he returned to his task, intent on examining its contents later at his leisure.

Shining his flashlight into the tail, he finally saw what he was looking for: screwed to the fuselage skin was a milk-carton-sized metal box, stripped black and orange and bearing the plane's identification number. Grabbing hold of the handle, he pulled the black box out of its housing and detached the cable that once supplied power and data. With a gesture of triumph, he held up the Cessna's flight recorder in his hand.

Meanwhile, Pipkin sat on the edge of the lake, looking at the air bubbles coming up from under the broken ice, feeling lonely and scared. Although he knew Alan was a man to keep his promises, he still felt scared for his friend, the memories of his near drowning fresh in his mind. How long could a human hold his breath underwater? And withstand that cold? In fact, he was so lost in his worrying thoughts, that he didn't notice a figure sneak up from behind him...

Before he knew what was happening, he suddenly felt a pincer-like grip on his hind leg and found himself hoisted in the air upside down. He screamed and struggled, thinking an owl had snatched him, but then remembered that the elil in this world were too small to be of much threat. His blood run cold with dread as he saw the sneering face of Tom Shelton, who was holding him by the hind leg, looking triumphant, "Well, this is a surprise. I saw a car parked outside the flight club and was expecting to find Dr Drake. Instead, I catch another talking rabbit!" he sneered evilly at Pipkin, who was struggling, yet wisely not screaming for help, hoping Shelton would not notice Alan.

Suddenly, Shelton noticed the air bubbles coming up from the bottom of the lake where the plane lay submerged. Hastily shoving the terrified rabbit in a garbage sack to keep him quiet, he tossed the bundle to a henchman accompanying him. "Sedate this creature and take it back to Sven, and I'll join you shortly. Tell him we needn't worry about Dr Drake anymore. Go!" The henchman turned and left as Tom turned back to the water, aiming his revolver, as he waited for 'Drake' to resurface.

After finding out about Drake's role in the future, as well as him being Sergey's murderer, a vengeful Sven had ordered him to go and capture him dead or alive. Having assumed that Alan had succumbed to the nerve toxin by now, Shelton had expected Drake to be on his own, probably accompanied by the other two rabbits. Then, remembering the Cessna's black box and suspecting Drake might try and retrieve it, he had returned to the crash site, only to discover his hunch had proven correct…or so it seemed.

Meanwhile, below the surface of the water, Alan, holding the black box in one hand and Robbins's bag in the other, swam for the surface. Breaking the surface of the water, he found himself face-to-face with Tom Shelton standing above him with a gun, "Good evening, Dr Drake," the traitorous flight controller sneered, "I expected someone to come back for that flight recorder and it seems I was right. Had a nice swim?"

Because of the latex mask he was wearing, Shelton hadn't recognised him and thought him to be Drake. "Yes, I suppose it was very exhilarating," Alan replied calmly as he took his mask off so Shelton could recognise the face of a supposedly dead man, "You…_Johnson_? No, it can't be!"

Taking advantage of Shelton's instant surprise, Alan suddenly walloped Tom hard in the tibia with the black box. The man lost his balance and dropped his gun into the water, where it instantly sunk to the bottom, out of reach. In one swift move, Alan had leapt out of the water and seized Shelton by the hair, tilting his head back and pressing the diving knife against his throat in warning.

"Be quiet, or I'll slit your carotid in half! Now, where is Pipkin? What have you done with him, you miserable snake?" he growled in Tom's ear, who muttered in a most unconvincing tone, "I…I don't know who you're talking about. I thought you were…"

"No? Too bad!" growled Alan and tightened his grip on the knife as if about to slit his captive' throat open. Realising Alan meant business, Shelton screamed, "No, wait please! My henchman took him back to our headquarters at Buxton Hall. I swear to God! Shertok has ordered the rest of your giant rabbit friends found and rounded up along with Dr Drake. He is launching Project Black Inferno at midnight tonight. It is the truth, honestly!"

"Well it better be, for your sake, or you'll find yourself eating your own Adam's apple, do you hear?" Alan spat, throwing Shelton to the ground. But the traitorous flight controller wasn't giving up yet; suddenly he spun round, clutching a razorblade, facing Alan with a murderous stare. However, in contrast to Alan, who had had combat lessons, Shelton's fighting skills were nil. Within seconds, Alan had grabbed the man's wrist and twisted the wrist painfully, causing Shelton to drop his weapon, "Your fingernails are filthy pal," he muttered, staring at his opponent's muddy hand in disgust.

With one powerful head-butt, he sent Shelton staggering backwards towards the frozen lake. Not losing his chance, he gave him a shove, sending the man plunging into the freezing water. Feeling a sense of pity for the corrupt flight controller, he took out his cell phone and dialled 999, "There has been an accident close to Sutch and Martin's flight club. Send the police and paramedics." Not pausing to check if Shelton was still alive, he hurried back to Drake's Benz and took off at full speed, intent on getting Pipkin back, if it was the last thing he ever did.

Meanwhile, back in Sydmonton, Drake and Fiver were struggling to decipher Mile's encrypted disk. Drake, clammy and exhausted, was rapidly tapping the keys on the keyboard, the computer frequently giving him failure-read messages as it tried to crack the encrypted data. Fiver, although fascinated by the multicoloured graphics on the screen, was starting to get weary of their lack of progress, "How are we doing?"

"Well," replied Drake, "I have managed to get a link-up to the M.O.D.s' database. But we still need to break Millard's code to read the files." He continued attacking the encrypted disk; finally, some icons appeared, revealing an accounting format on some financial investments abroad, "Looks like we've finally gotten somewhere. Let's see what we have here…"

Unbeknownst to either of them however, in a control centre in the M.O.D., several staff members sat at their stations, managing the ministry's database. Suddenly, one employee monitoring the networks for traces of spam picked up a warning signal of unauthorized activity in progress. He turned to his assistant, "We've got a security breach; someone is accessing confidential data on an unsafe network and without authorization. Track down this server and alert security at once!"

Within minutes, a police squad was on its way to Drake's cottage. Unfortunately, Red Hand's connections had also been alerted via their connections and soon Sven's men were underway as well. Inside the M.O.D., the security staff activated a security program to terminate the activity on Drake's server before the government data could be compromised any further.

Meanwhile, both completely unaware that they had been discovered, Drake and Fiver were busy browsing the files on Mile's disk, "Here it is; 'fifty-two million euros invested on three nuclear warheads from Kazakhstan. Buyer: Sergey Petrograd, date: September 19th 2010, to be shipped to England'. It's all here, black and white," the scientist said. "Strange that Robbins's name isn't on here; it seems he used the name Ronald Fields instead…"

At that moment, there was a loud knocking on the front door. Drake grabbed the revolver and cautiously approached the front door with Fiver in tow, "Who is there? What do you want?" he called, aiming the gun.

"Open up, it's me!" came Alan's voice. Drake unlocked the door and Alan entered, dishevelled and still wearing his diver's suit. He collapsed into a chair looking horribly distraught, "We were ambushed at the crash site. They have taken Pipkin!" he muttered, as Drake helped him out of the suit. Fiver went tharn at the news, as he rounded on Alan in outrage.

"You let them take him? He was supposed to be your responsibility!" he shouted, but regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth. Alan stared back at him, looking hurt, causing Fiver's ears to droop in shame at the outburst, "I am sorry Alan, I didn't mean it. Please forgive me," the young buck muttered, placing a comforting paw on Alan's knee. Alan gently patted him reassuringly.

"Never mind Fiver. I managed to overpower that snake Shelton and forced the truth out of him; he said they've taken Pipkin to Buxton Hall. Sven apparently wants you lot alive, so they won't hurt him…yet. Drake, any luck with the disk?"

"Yes, here is the dirty investment to finance Black Inferno all right. However, Robbins's name isn't on here or anything else pinpointing Red Hand's involvement, so it can't guarantee your innocence. I am sorry." Alan sighed in exasperation; why did Red Hand have to be so difficult? "What about the black box? Did you find it? And what is that?" he asked, as he spotted Robbins' bag.

"I found it hidden onboard the plane; it appears Robbins might have left us something behind." Walking over to a table, he opened the bag and emptied its contents for a thorough examination.

Aside from the journal, which, despite being waterlogged for nearly a day, was still legible from being wrapped up in a waterproof sandwich bag, Alan also found his camera, which Robbins had borrowed from him during their journey. And there was more: lying at the bottom of the bag was a mess of shattered giant eggshell fragments as well as the half-grown foetus; he had found the remains of the hawk's egg that Robbins had stolen, hoping to sell it for a fortune if he ever made it back home. Drake's eyes lit up as he spotted the decaying unborn hawk; being a biogeneticist, that decaying little carcass could provide priceless information for his experiments to create the future world.

Picking up the dead foetus with a pair of tweezers, he placed it in a jar of formaldehyde before taking it down to the refrigerator in his laboratory for safekeeping, "This specimen might just be the blueprint for the future world!" Alan rolled his eyes at the irony; first humans, and now _elil_ were to play a major role in the creation of his rabbit friends.

Leaving the journal aside for later (he already had a general idea about what it said and they would have to go over it carefully before letting anyone else see it), Alan went aside to put on some dry clothes. So far, they had gathered some substantial evidence; Mile's disk, the Cessna flight recorder and Robbins' journal, not to mention Drake as a key witness. Although it was obvious by now that it would still take a lot of careful analysis before the authorities could confirm his innocence, he now definitely had enough to expose the Red Hand Brotherhood to the authorities. He was just considering, whether or not, to risk turning himself in with the evidence, when suddenly, Drake called out, "Something's wrong. The computer is not responding."

Rushing to the desk, in an instant, Alan's fears were confirmed, "They are on to us! And they are erasing the bloody disk. Get it the hell out of there! Now!" he hissed as he saw a warning icon, bearing the M.O.D. crest, appear on the screen.

LEVEL 4 SECURITY PROTOCOL WARNING

SECURE ERASE INVOKED;

DELETING ALL DATA

They both tugged at the drive to eject the disk but it wouldn't open. Grabbing an ornament, Alan hit the drive, smashing it open but the damage was done. With sick dread, he read:

LOW-LEVEL FORMAT OF READABLE MEDIA COMPLETE;

PARTITION DESTROYED

Before Alan could curse at the loss of their most important piece of evidence, he noticed Fiver go tharn and collapse; they were in trouble again. Sure enough, at that moment, the front door burst open and half a dozen hooded hitmen stormed in, firing in their direction. Alan ducked behind a sofa, pulling Fiver with him. The thick frame of the sofa shielded them from the wave of bullets that swept the room, but unfortunately Drake couldn't dodge in time. With a yell of pain, the scientist fell to the floor, bleeding out from a bullet wound in his side.

Seeing all hope for the future about to be lost if Drake died, Alan seized his weapons backpack and took out a Molotov cocktail. Lighting the wick, he flung the bottle in the direction of the murderous squad, which were still crowded in the doorway. The bottle impacted with the squad leader's head and shattered; in an instant, all six assassins were engulfed in flaming benzene. Ignoring the screams of the men being burned alive, Alan slid across the floor and grabbed hold of Drake, pulling him behind the safety of the sofa.

Turning him over, Alan and Fiver gasped as they saw the bullet wound on the left side of the scientist's abdomen which was oozing out blood, staining Drake's shirt red; the carpet underneath was also turning red from more blood escaping from the exit wound on Drake's back. Ripping open Drake's shirt to get a better look at the injury, they saw a gaping bullet hole that was causing the man to slowly bleed to death. Taking off his jacket, he placed it under the man's head and tilted it up, to help him breathe properly. Then, also removing his shirt, he pressed it down hard on the wound, trying to control the bleeding best he could.

Although luckily not a fatal wound, Alan knew it required immediate treatment in the emergency room. Drake was still conscious, as he stared down at his wound, "How bad is it? Will I die…Argggggg!" he screamed as Alan drenched the wound with some whisky from the drink's cabinet to sterilise it. "You're bleeding pretty bad, but I don't think it punctured any organs. Fortunately, the bullet didn't become lodged in there either; if we can stop the bleeding, you should survive. Here Fiver, press down hard on this. I am going to call for help."

Just as he was about to reach the phone and call for an ambulance, he heard it: distant sirens, _police sirens_, approaching. Although utterly relieved at seeing help already underway, the risk of being taken back into custody was something that he couldn't chance at this moment. Despite still having some reliable evidence to prove his innocence this time, the delay of making a statement would give Red Hand the time they needed to launch Project Black Inferno. Not to mention, with Fiver here, there was the risk of the secret of the future falling into the wrong hands. As if reading his mind, Drake spoke.

"Alan, take Fiver and run; I'll sort it out with the police. To them I am only a missing man, not a wanted fugitive. If I can convince them of the danger, I'll have them send reinforcements at Buxton Hall. You must get there quick to stop the launch and save your friend. I'll be fine. Now get going, don't waste time!" Realising he had no other choice, Alan hastily picked up his jacket and backpack. Bending down, he shook Drake's hand.

"Take care, Cole. Remember, give the flight recorder and Robbins's journal to Inspector Charles Santon; he is the investigator working on my case. And be careful what to say to him; nobody else must learn the secret of the future. Good luck!"

Just as several police cars pulled up in the driveway, Alan and Fiver jumped out a back window and fled through the backyard. As they headed towards the road, Alan saw, to his dismay, there was no chance of reaching Drake's car without being seen. His eyes lit up when he spotted a drain cover on the footpath. Pulling the heavy cover away, he jumped into the sewer tunnel below, landing in filthy, knee-deep water, Fiver following behind him. Carrying the young buck in his arms to keep him from being drenched in sewage, he run along the dark tunnel, away from Drake's house.

After having run a safe distance, they climbed out through another drain cover and found themselves on the outskirts of Sydmonton. The two friends stared at the deserted road, "So Alan, what now? We have nowhere left to turn to…" But Alan, having thought things out carefully, smiled, "Don't worry Fiver. I know just the Hotdog for the job!"

After explaining his plan to Fiver, the two friends set off at a quick pace along the road towards the town of Whitchurch, to meet an old friend of Alan's, a criminal, who could help them out. Somewhere in the night, a clock struck nine; three hours before Project Black Inferno was due to launch.

Author's note: Another chapter gone! In the original draft, Drake was killed and Alan saw Fiver disappear, as all the WD rabbits ceased to exist. Out of grief of losing everything again, Alan committed suicide. If I had kept that draft, the next chapter would have been an epilogue many years later (after the comet impact, when the world has started over, but without the Four Brothers), where Santon has married Josie and they talk to their children about Alan's story and how Project Black Inferno was stopped thanks to his efforts, plus a scene in the land beyond life (the world from the Cross Bearer), where Alan finally reunites with his family and the WD rabbits. However, I didn't like such a quick and depressing ending, so I decided to extend the story. Please review so I can update faster! Thank you!


	37. Chapter 37 Help From an Old Friend

A woodcutter's truck drove along the country road, heading towards Cole Henley. The driver sat at the wheel, smoking and listening to Randy Travis songs on his stereo. Anxious for his shift to end, he was completely unaware of the two stowaways riding in the back of his truck, completely hidden from view amidst the many piles of logs. Alan and Fiver sat quietly in the back, waiting for the truck to pass the village of Whitchurch, where Alan hoped to seek help from an old friend of his, Hotdog Johnny-Boone.

During his time at a London orphanage following his father's death, Alan had made friends with three people that had come to mean the world to him, aside from his family. Derek Shaw had been his first, and had remained his closest friend to the end, but he hadn't been the only one; Hotdog Johnny-Boone, a tall, semi-black boy with a sense of humour that resembled Bluebell's, as well as a natural-born artist of petty crime, had been another member of their circle of friendship, along with another fellow, Ronald Fields. The four boys had started a group called 'The Hard Boys', as part of their bond of trust and friendship, with an oath never to be apart. Unfortunately that oath hadn't lasted forever.

Soon after reaching adulthood and leaving the orphanage, Fields had quarrelled with Alan, eventually severing their friendship altogether and gone his own way; he had died later in the war without ever making amends with his old friends. Hotdog had chosen a criminal life, to follow in his parents' footsteps which, although didn't effect his love for his friends, had slowly caused them to drift apart. Only Derek and Alan had remained close till the end.

Although not a violent criminal, Hotdog, in contrast to Alan and Derek, had started out as a pickpocket and shoplifter as a teenager, but had always managed to slip out of trouble. Over the years, he had mastered other criminal techniques including hacking, use of guns, forging, black market business and evasive driving skills that rivalled even those of Elwood Blues. During the war, he had even become an outstanding transport pilot in the RAF, after finding his call in flying. His flying career had been cut short however, after losing an eye from enemy fire and being transferred to Bomb Disposal on the home front for the remainder of the war, where he had mastered other skills, including the handling of bombs and explosives. After the war, he had returned to his career as a smuggler and thief, yet remained close to Alan and Derek who maintained their friendship with him.

Alan had explained his plan to Fiver, who sat curled up beside his friend, trying to feel the warmth of Alan's jacket. Since Hotdog had professional experience with handling unexploded enemy bombs, combined with his criminal infiltration skills, he could be the key man to help them stop Project Black Inferno. Alan smiled at Fiver's uncertainty, "Don't worry; we can trust this fellow. Derek and I have known him since childhood and his heart is true, despite his…disregard for the law. Besides, he is our last chance of succeeding in our mission. By midnight tonight, the fate of the future will be determined once and for all."

As they crossed the village square, they jumped off the truck, which continued on to its original destination. Not wasting any time to be spotted by any passer-bys, Alan quickly led Fiver along the high street towards his old friend's address. Crossing the bridge over the Test, they headed towards a run-down section on the outskirts of the town, where some abandoned barns and silk mills, dating back to the early 1920's, were situated.

This part of the village was silent and deserted, virtually unpopulated. Alan led the way down a dark gravel path, towards a run-down looking building in the middle of a weed field; the only inhabited building on that side of town. A cracked, weatherworn sign over the front door spelled: _'The Dead Rat Inn; Transients Welcome'_. This was Hotdog's 'elegant' home; although just a run-down boarding house at first glance, Alan knew there was much more than what met the eye, as the building was also a safehouse for Hotdog's criminal associates. Gangsters, wealthy smugglers, and other criminal clients would meet at this hideout, where they would hold conferences on a smuggling job or sell their illegal goods smuggled in from abroad.

Although the entrance was always watched by an armed guard in case of a police raid, Hotdog had entrusted Alan and Derek with the password, granting them safe access to his lair. Being old friends with the best smuggler in England had its rewards, for Alan and Derek were also Hotdog's best customers and would usually return from their visits with illegal goods, including pirated films, liquor, tobacco and even guns, all tax-free and purchased at generous discounts.

Instead of marching up to the front door, the logical visitor's entrance, Alan led the way to the back of the building, to the staff door. Turning to his long-eared friend he said, "I am going in alone, just in case there is trouble. I want you to wait there by those garbage cans and stay out of sight, until I return." Fiver looked uneasy, "What do I do if something goes wrong? I don't want to be left alone!" Alan bent down and held the rabbit close for a hug.

"Don't worry; I promise you I'll be back soon. However, if something happens to me and I don't return by the time the village clock strikes twelve…that's when Inle is highest in the sky," he said, struggling to explain to his rabbit friend in the simplest of words, "then leave this place and go back to Josie. She'll take care of you."

Stroking the buck on the head one last time to reassure him, he walked up to the door. Picking up a stray brick that lay on the porch roof, he banged three times on the steel door, using the secret signal Hotdog had told him all about, "Let's hope the password hasn't been changed," he thought nervously, as a slot opened and a stern voice growled, "Got the password buddy?"

"Dirty schemes tonight," he whispered into the slot. For a few seconds nothing happened and Alan was about to duck, to avoid a possible bullet being fired in his face, but then he heard a key turn in the lock and the door swung open, "Enter and be quick about it!"

He stepped inside and then the door swung shut, engulfing him in the total darkness that filled the room. At the far end of the corridor he was standing in, was a crack of light was visible between the door and floor, which led to the next room. Pushing open the door, he entered the shabby-looking pub of the inn. A few rough-looking men were seated at tables pilled high with empty bottles, playing poker, all so full of booze, they didn't even register the fact that a stranger was walking into their midst.

Carefully scanning the room like a hawk, he spotted his old friend standing at the pool table, a cue in his hand, as he prepared to hit the white ball that would send the black ball into a pocket. A dark-skinned man with leather garments and boots, long hair tied in locks, his fingers decorated with punk-style rings and a black patch over his left eye and a hideous earring to match, Hotdog stood smoking his Chinese wood-and-ivory marijuana pipe. Alan watched Hotdog make his move; the white ball struck the black ball, sending it in the direction of the nearest pocket, only to miss it by half an inch. His two fellow players roared with laughter at their opponent, who had just lost the game by one move.

Cursing in rage, the smuggler tossed away the cue and strode away to a lonely table in the shadows, sulking, while the other smugglers pocketed their winnings. Seeing his chance, Alan sneaked up behind him and pressed a pistol to his back, "Be quiet or I'll blow your spine in half!" he whispered in what he hoped was a different voice that his friend didn't recognise, "You're coming with me for a little chat in your apartment. Now, march towards that door and not a sound from you!" Although feeling slightly guilty at scaring his old friend like that, not to mention holding him at gunpoint, Alan wanted to keep his identity hidden until they were someone private, to ensure they wouldn't be overheard.

About to wet himself in fear, Hotdog marched towards the stairwell door, his dark skin having turned milk-white in fear of his predicament. Obviously, he had mistaken Alan for some rival who had come to pick a bone with him. They mounted the stairs, heading towards Hotdog's dingy apartment on the first landing; the only apartment in the old boarding house still inhabited, all the other rooms having been converted to storerooms for Hotdog's smuggled goods.

Keeping the pistol jabbed into Hotdog's back with one hand and maintaining a firm grip on his friend's collar with the other, he pushed him into his dark room and shut the door behind them with his foot. Hotdog's flat had the typical appearance for a man of his trade; some cheap, shabby furniture, clippings of pornographic magazines decorating the walls, a-do-it-yourself hacker's workstation, a closet filled with alcohol and drugs, as well as a vast collection of weapons, enough to supply a small army of hooligans. Evidence of Hotdog's lack of hygiene was everywhere, as the flat was swarming with litter, unwashed laundry and dishes, and smelled horrible. There were also several boxes lying about the room filled with, what appeared to be, stolen goods including china, jewellery and even some artefacts, which Alan recognised, to his utmost outrage, as his own belongings, which had been stolen from his apartment. Ignoring all that dirty treasure, he turned to his smuggler friend.

"Sit down," he said, pointing in the direction of the mouldy bed. The smuggler obeyed, trembling, "Would you mind telling me, who are you and why you're about to slit my throat? If Izzy sent you, I've told him I would pay him his share by Tuesday. Although I could swear I recognise your voice; but you can't be who I _think_ you are. Unless, I am talking to a ghost?" he asked with a rather nervous laugh.

"Perhaps…" replied Alan, with his best imitation of Jacob Marley, "In life, I was your friend Alan Johnson!" he said, causing his old friend to lose it,

"WHAT?" Slowly turning round to face his captor, Hotdog's jaw nearly dropped level with the floor in shock, revealing his many gold teeth.

"_AJ_? No, you're _dead_! You're just a hallucination caused by an overdose of marijuana or one of those cocktail shots!" he mumbled, rubbing his good eye as if expecting Alan to disappear, but to no avail, "Why return from the grave to haunt me? I swear to God, I didn't loot your house when you died!" he moaned, backing up against the wall and coiling up, like a mouse cornered by a cat. Being confronted by his supposedly dead friend was nothing short of a nightmare. Rolling his eyes at the fact that Hotdog not having robbed him was evidently far from the truth, Alan let out a bark-like laugh.

"Man of the worldly mind, do you believe in me or not?" Hotdog nodded nervously muttering, "Now I am good as pork!"

"Well then, I suppose you'll believe me when I tell you, I still walk the Earth as a _living man_?" Hotdog continued rubbing his eye, still not trusting his own senses, "But I saw your coffin lowered into the grave along with Deke's! But then…" he added, realising the obvious, "your bodies were not found to begin with..."

"That's right, you old dog! About time you caught on!" Alan said cheerfully, as Hotdog burst out laughing, realising that one of his best friends, whom he believed to have lost forever, was indeed still alive. Alan joined in the laughing too, as the two friends embraced each other. "Bloody hell AJ! What the hell is going on here? If this is a prank, I daresay you've won first prize! I can see the headlines: _'Dead man returns from the grave and scares nation half to death!'_ " he said, "By the power of the Seven Seas man, were you bloody well trying to give me a heart attack?" he added reproachfully, giving his friend a non-too-gently nudge in the gut for scaring him half to death.

"Am much as I hate to spoil this lovely moment of reunion dear friend, I must ask for your full attention _now_," said Alan, interrupting Hotdog, "I am a fugitive now and you're the only one I have left to turn to..." Hotdog's eyes were round as marbles at the news, "_Fugitive_, you say? Oho, welcome to the club matey! About time you decided to follow my good example and becoming a honourable criminal! I just wish things were better around here; I am on the verge of bankruptcy and someone has called in my debts; my Columbian clients will soon be asking for payment in blood…"

"I need your help old friend. Now!" Alan repeated, in a more serious tone. Hotdog frowned, realising something was wrong, "What's going on here AJ? And, come to think about it, where is Deke? Why isn't he here with you?" Alan looked at his friend, straight in the eyes, "Derek is dead, Hotdog. But we don't have much time, so I want you to shut up and hear my story." Hotdog nodded and Alan launched into the same story he had recited to Drake only a few hours earlier.

Alan told him everything; Red Hand's scam to get to him, Robbins, the journey into the future, the rabbits of Watership Down, General Woundwort and Project Black Inferno. By the time he was finished, Hotdog was trembling, no longer with fear, but with rage.

"A bunch of bloody terrorists killed Deke?" he bellowed, "Why, I'll have their heads mounted on my wall! Don't worry AJ, those gutter rats will feel the wrath of the Hard Boys, make no mistake about that! But, what was that thing you were saying about being…teleported into a future world of giant talking rabbits?" But Alan, feeling the great time pressure on his mind, shook his head; he would just have to let his old friend see the proof with his own eyes shortly. In the meantime, they needed to hurry.

"That's not important now Hotdog! I will explain everything later. What's important right now is that Red Hand intends to launch Project Black Inferno at midnight _tonight_! I am going to try and stop it, alone if I have to! So, are you with me?" Although still confused with Alan's story, Hotdog nodded firmly.

"Why yes, I am with you all the way! There is no way those vermin are getting away with this! First we lose Fields and now Deke; well, I won't allow Derek Shaw to have died in vain!"

"Fine. Then let's gather whatever we need from here and move! We haven't much time," he said, "Come on, my friend is waiting outside for us." Hotdog frowned at this; he didn't like the thought of a stranger prowling outside his hideout without his knowledge. "What friend?" Alan smiled at him, "You shall see soon enough."

After gathering all the weapons, ammunition, bomb kits, and all the other tools they would need, Alan and Hotdog climbed out the window using the fire escape ladder and descended into the courtyard, carrying the equipment. Alan whistled in the direction of the garbage cans, "Fiver, come on out! I am back!" An excited buck suddenly sprang from his hiding place, right into Alan's embrace, "Thank Frith Alan! I was starting to worry. Did you find whom you were looking for?"

Alan smiled and turned to Hotdog, who was staring dumbstruck at the giant rabbit in Alan's arms, having dropped his pipe into his pants in shock, with its contents still lit. "Fiver, this is Hotdog, my old friend. Hotdog, this is Fiver, first friend I ever made in the future." Fiver nodded curtly as Hotdog slowly regained the use of his voice.

"Your story is actually _true_? The future of our planet is a world of _giant talking rabbits_? By Davie Jones' locker, how I wish I had a bag to hide my head in, for doubting your sanity AJ!" Hotdog said, laughing at himself for this mysterious situation he was in: first one of his best friends returns from the dead and now a giant talking anthropomorphic rabbit from the _future_ stood before him.

After introductions were made, the group of three loaded their equipment onto Hotdog's shabby van and were soon speeding out of Whitchurch, heading towards Buxton Hall. As Hotdog drove along, muttering how unbelievable Alan's discovery was, Alan sat in the back with Fiver, loading the guns and checking all the gear. Noticing the young buck's troubled expression, probably from the prospect of the challenge that still lay ahead of them, Alan gently placed his hands on his friend's shoulders to face him.

"Fiver, the crucial part of our mission has nearly arrived. Pretty soon we will know once and for all, if we have a chance of correcting the future. Whatever happens, I want you to know that I love you very and I will never turn my back on you, no matter how this turns out." Fiver smiled warmly, as Alan hugged him lovingly. Meanwhile, somewhere in the night, a clock struck eleven; one hour to the launch of Project Black Inferno.

Author's note: Another chapter gone! For those who are confused, go back and read the first chapter, where Alan is going through his photo album. The 'Hard Boys' was a group similar to the Marauders in Harry Potter. The character Hotdog was inspired from a combination of fictional pirate characters including Long John Silver, Jack Sparrow and even from the pilot Izzy Buttons from the movie _The Mummy Returns_. The character of Ronald Fields will be explained more later. Please review!


	38. Chapter 38 The Truth Revealed

Inspector Santon and Neil Coyle sat in their police van, listening to the tape from the Cessna's black box on a portable player. Shortly after Bigwig had finished explaining back at Josie's house, Santon had received an urgent call from Coyle, that Dr Drake had been found injured in his home, following an incident of illegal computer activity, and demanding to see him. Leaving Bigwig in Josie's care, Santon had rejoined Coyle and they had hurried to Sydmonton. There, they had found a police squad accompanied by an ambulance and the Fire Brigade, outside Dr Drake's cottage.

Inside, the two men had encountered a sickening sight of several charred bodies lying in the incinerated hallway; in the parlour, a paramedic was tending to Dr Drake. According to the local constable, the attack had been a random act of violence that had gone terribly wrong.

As the paramedics carried Drake out on a stretcher, the semiconscious man had called out to Santon and placed the flight recorder and Robbins' bag into his hands. Before Santon could question Drake what this was all about however, the injured scientist had passed out and the paramedics had hastily carried him to the ambulance without another word. Drake had been taken to a local clinic and put on life support, before being transferred to a surgery in London.

Taking the journal, Alan's camera, and the flight recorder tape, the inspector and his deputy had retreated to their car, where they could examine the evidence in privacy. While the police dealt with the moving of the bodies and the gathering of evidence, Santon and Coyle listened carefully to the echo from the past; everything that the doomed Cessna had heard on its last flight was revealed in the form of jumbled dialogue, occasionally distorted by multiple background noises:

"_232-G to SAM Control. Do you copy, over?" "232-G, I read you loud and clear. You are clear for takeoff." "Any updates on weather conditions?" "Radar station reports some heavy frontal activity and building turbulence approaching from the east. We recommend you keep a tight schedule to avoid interception." "Roger and out." _Captain Andre's voice talking to Tom Shelton could be heard as the playback continued.

"_232-G, do you copy, over? Weather stations are picking up severe turbulence four miles ahead of your position." "We will be going through there SAM Control. Over." "Negative on that. Radar station reports it's too severe. We recommend you turn to heading 270 and circle around it." "Roger that SAM Control. Turning to heading 270." _Images of the flight passed through the inspector's head as he silently listened to the rest of the recording, slowly piecing everything together. Suddenly, the playback developed heavy static for a moment, as if distorted by some sort of interference.

"_Mayday, mayday! This is 232-G. We have multiple electrical failures and system malfunctions. Requesting emergency guidance. Do you read me SAM Control, over?" _At that moment, the playback turned silent, as if that portion of the tape was blank. Then Alan's voice appeared on the radio, replacing Julio's, _"SAM Control, this is 232-G, declaring an emergency. The pilot is down; I need instructions for an emergency landing. Do you copy, over?" "__We have an incapacitated pilot and have lost our bearings. Request immediate radio contact, over!"_ Then suddenly, he started hearing the entire conversation going on onboard, aside from the transmissions; Alan's desperate fiddling with the controls had accidentally activated the open audition mode, allowing any background conversation to be recorded as well.

"_I am not picking up anything, anywhere. That's impossible; emergency and military aircraft bands are never off the air. Now, even the satellite signal for the GPS has stopped. Maybe we could try something else? You two, search your pockets, your bags, the whole cabin for some other communication device we could use." "I don't understand. Everything appears to be functioning perfectly, aside from the fact that we can't establish any communication with the ground. Everything is in the same perfect condition as it was at the pre-flight check." "__Just look at that! There are not even any lights visible on the ground, not even those of cars. Even during the darkest of nights, the headlights of highway traffic can be seen from up here!_ _Has the entire planet gone into total blackout? Or are we caught in the midst of another nuclear strike?"_ Sweat trailed down Santon's face and that of his deputy's, as they realised that Alan and his companions had indeed been thrown into the future, "Here we go."

"_Perhaps we should try for Heathrow? They are always equipped for aviation emergencies." "One of the busiest airports in the country with no idea what's the situation on the ground? Forget it; it's too dangerous and I am not even qualified to fly us that far without radio guidance. No, an emergency landing simply requires a flat, desolate area. The flight club airstrip is our best bet" "Alright, let's get on with it." _Then followed a series of instructions, as Shaw read the onboard flight manual, giving Alan instructions, as they approached for an emergency landing.

"_Damn,_ _we are off target. Pull up!" "No, it's too late now; we are going in as we are. Everybody kneel forward and put your hands between your knees, hands over your head."_ Santon then heard the sounds of a violent touchdown, followed by coughs and groans of pain, _"Everybody get your masks on, now! Help me move him…" "Forget about him, he is dead! We have to get out of here now, or we join him. Let's move!"_ Santon slowly pieced everything together, "So Captain Andre died in flight from a heart attack; one disappearance is solved. Two more to go and I will have all the evidence needed to clear Johnson." They continued to listen carefully. Suddenly, Robbins's voice reappeared with another unknown voice in the background.

"_By Frith of Inle, this thing is alive! We are flying!" "I told you captain Vervain, my word is my word. I expect better trust from now on, if you wish to see Alan dead."_ Santon frowned at these words, "Here we go; time for explanations at last." _"So why were you assigned the task of killing that troublemaker and his friends in the first place?"_ _"Because Alan always tends to stick his interfering nose where it doesn't belong; he has to learn that I am used to getting my way and the consequences of defying me. My associates Tom Shelton and Sven Shertok are only in on this for the money." _Santon's eyes flashed dangerously at the mention of these two names, "So Commissioner Shertok and Mr Shelton are indeed guilty!"

_"And you expect to have the General do your work? He is not your servant you know!" "I never said he was Captain Vervain; on the contrary, I am offering my services to him by helping him eliminate a grave threat to his empire and getting my revenge at the same time." "So this…weapon your people built, will it benefit the General in any way?" "Project Black Inferno gives the one who controls it, the power to eliminate each and every single one of his enemies without even blinking hard. As my old boss Sergey always said: 'Only when you have your enemy begging for death, is the right time to kill him.' Personally, I am going to kill Johnson, Shaw and McEwen just for the sheer pleasure of it!" _Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place, "So that missing RAF pilot Major James McEwen and his crew were also thrown into the future! And that scumbag Robbins, who _was_ onboard that plane as Johnson insisted, was indeed planning a murder scheme all along!"

_"So what happens now? Where are we going?" "We are going to follow our original course backwards and let's hope that the warp, or whatever it's called, that brought me here is still there. If it is, we will try going through and hope it reverses the time travel process." "Here we go; everybody hang on as tight as you can!"_ A slight pause and then the voices of Alan, Bigwig, Hawkbit, Pipkin and Hazel reappeared _"Where in Frith's name are we? This Frith-forsaken place is your time?" "No, we just travelled in the wrong direction; we should have penetrated the warp eastwards, not westwards." _A slight pause followed from another blank gap in the recording.

_"SAM Control, this is 232-G. Repeat, 232-G, declaring an emergency. Evacuate all traffic from your runway immediately; I am coming in and I have no fuel. Get the fire brigade and the paramedics on standby. Do you copy, over?" "Unidentified aircraft, be aware you are entering the flight path of a heavy jet. If you maintain your current heading, you will collide. I repeat, you will collide! Change your heading immediately!" "Oh, my God!" "Mayday, mayday! This is 232-G declaring an emergency. We have structural damage! Request instructions, over."_ _"Everybody brace for crash landing. Brace now!" _The sounds of a crash landing were heard and then nothing as the recording ended.

Santon and Coyle looked at each other, shaken from everything they had just heard. Turning to Robbins' journal for a confirmation, they found the entries matched everything they had just heard on the voice recorder, among other interesting information; the murder of Miles Millard, the theft of Dr Shaw's guidance system to be used in Project Black Inferno, Sergey's blackmailing of Dr Drake and the abduction of his family, the embezzlement of state funds to finance Red Hand's work, as well as the names of many secret associates stationed in various government departments, including Shertok. Robbins had left behind a detailed record of Red Hand's dirty work he had been involved in; an even better source of information than Mile's lost disk. Santon turned to Coyle.

"This has gone far enough; I want copies of this material e-mailed to Judge Ruben immediately. Tell him, I want a search warrant issued for the Buxton estate. Johnson is going there alone and needs our help. And remember to leave out anything about the future; only the parts with Red Hand's plot will suffice for now. I also want arrest warrants put out on every name mentioned here, as well as search warrants for their homes. If we can't get the warrant secured within the hour, we assemble a team and go in unauthorized. Well, get on with it!" At that moment, a police officer knocked on the car window.

"Excuse me Inspector, we have the pictures from the camera," he said, handing Santon a brown envelope with the photographs from Alan's camera, which had been developed and printed at the local police station on Santon's request.

"Thanks officer. What about Drake's house? Any evidence of what happened here tonight?" Santon replied, hastily taking the envelope and tucking it in his pocket and out of sight.

"Well sir, those hooligans seem extremely professional for common riff-raff: expensive, state-of-the-art firearms, which had been reported missing from state armouries. None of the victims had any identification on them, so we suspect it could more than just a random act of violence. Perhaps Dr Drake can tell us more later..."

"How is he doing?" asked Santon, remembering Drake's importance for the future. The officer nodded in reassurance, "Pretty bad bullet wound, but the surgeon says he should make a full recovery. Don't worry Inspector; I have stationed an officer at the hospital to watch over him around the clock as you requested. Nobody is going to disturb him."

After Coyle had left to deliver the evidence to headquarters for further analysis, Santon opened the folder to inspect the last piece of evidence: the photographs. There wasn't much more to be seen here; but Santon was instantly glad he hadn't sent them directly to his superiors. A dozen or so photographs fell out onto his lap, telling the same story he had learned from the flight recorder and the journal, in the form of pictures. He made a mental note to go over all the evidence with Coyle and edit out anything related to Johnson's journey into the future, before the material was filed.

There was an out-of-focus picture of two giant rabbits, similar to Bigwig, standing on the edge of a clearing with the blurred outline of a giant fox springing at them. Another was more interesting; it was a large group of giant rabbits, including the two from the first picture, with Johnson, Shaw and McEwen standing among them, looking as if they were like brothers to them. Most of the other photographs showed them at different moments during their journey. Then Santon found several photographs of some unfamiliar rabbits, including one with the slyest expression imaginable, which was Cowslip, as well as some with mean expressions, which were the Efrafans.

One of these pictures sent a chill down his spine as he glanced at the most terrible-looking rabbit he had ever seen, with jet-black fur, a gleaming red eye in one socket and a blind milk-white one in the other and pointed front teeth like a rat; General Woundwort. Beside him was another smaller rabbit with a sneering face and evil eyes; Captain Vervain and his master were posing for a picture. But it was only the final photograph that made the inspector's eyes widen in shock.

He could see a digging site with a weatherworn missile being unearthed. He could just make out a familiar black-hand-held-in-a-stop-gesture-crest, as well as the Alpha-Omega symbol of a doomsday weapon engraved on the side of the projectile; it was Project Black Inferno, when it was being unearthed in the future. Having seen enough, he put the photographs aside.

"God help us," he muttered, finally realising what a fool he had been by not listening to Johnson from the start; there was no longer any doubt that there was indeed a terrorist faction out there, planning a massive strike against the world. At that moment, Coyle reappeared with a message from the local constable.

"Sir, we found Tom Shelton; he's in hospital in Newbury, suffering from hypothermia. They fished him out of a lake outside his flight club; it seems he got into a fight with someone and during the struggle, fell through the ice. They found him resembling an ice cube, but still alive. They said they also found the wreckage of Dr Johnson's plane submerged under the ice. We may just have gotten this case back on track."

"Indeed," replied the Inspector, "I think it's time we paid Mr Shelton a sick visit and get some answers once and for all. Come on!" Activating the sirens of the police car, the two detectives set off for Newbury, where they intended to get a testimony out of Mr Shelton, one way or another.

Meanwhile, back at Buxton Hall, Hazel and Hawkbit still lay strapped to the interrogation table, as Sven questioned them about the future, while an assistant recorded the conversation; a growing stack of tapes lay on the table beside the recorder. Both rabbits, close to exhaustion from all the torture and now also under the influence of a truth serum, could no longer hold back anything. Sven kept firing question after question on the origin of their world, information on the role Drake was to play in the future, the fate of humanity, the role of Project Black Inferno in the future, how time travel was accomplished, and everything they and Alan had been doing to change the future.

By the time he had finished extracting every last scrap of information he could think of, the wheels in Sven's head were turning like mad at the golden opportunity presented through all the information he had just gathered. He turned to his men, "Do you realise what these tapes could mean to Red Hand? We have in our hands, the inside track on every major event that will determine the future. Now, if anybody had a competitive edge in making a difference, it's us!"

"Why, of coarse!" said another, "If we play our cards right, then we'll be the only people in the world with the power to reshape the future of humanity at our own accord, instead of walking blindly towards our destiny. To think, we started out to dismantle the European Union and create a world of National Socialism with Project Black Inferno, but now we can go much further than that!"

"You've read my mind, Norris," Sven said, deep in thought, "After Project Black Inferno is launched, we can also proceed to take our cause even further by means of our latest…acquisitions."

"How do you mean sir?" asked Norris, as Sven strode about the room making plans in the back of his mind, "What I mean, you idiot, is that we can make good use of these genetic samples. With the DNA samples we have extracted from these two, we could start a major animal warfare project, which we will have all to ourselves. Just think; if those savage rabbits of the future could eliminate an entire civilisation, imagine the advantages presented to us, not to mention the money, if we were to transfer their genetic traits onto more dangerous animals that could then serve as lethal instruments of war…"

"What about these two, boss?" asked Norris, pointing in the direction of the two battered rabbits on the table. Sven gave them a look of pure malice and replied, "I don't think we need them anymore; we have blood samples and all the information we could force out of them. However, we ought to keep them alive so we have two live specimen to study, should the genetic samples prove useless." He turned to the torturer, "Samir, after you're finished cleaning up here, lobotomise them, to ensure their silence. However, make sure you don't kill them; they can still function as sources of fresh genetic samples as vegetables."

Samir looked rather disappointed that his master had denied him the fun of torturing the two rabbits to death, yet didn't argue, as he went to fetch his surgery kit for the lobotomy. Sven picked up the tapes and an icebox containing several test tubes with the blood samples and packed them in an armoured briefcase, "Norris, take this stuff to the safe and lock it up. I am going and check if Project Black Inferno is ready yet."

The two men hurried out, leaving Hazel and Hawkbit alone, dreading Samir's return. Although battered, bruised, bloodied and thoroughly exhausted, the two miserable creatures still held on to their rapidly diminishing hope of rescue. So far they hadn't heard anything confirming Alan's death or the capture of the rest of their friends, giving them some encouragement that help might be coming for them. Then again, how much longer could they hold out? And did anyone actually know they were still alive, if they had been left for dead back at the farm? Even if Alan or someone else came for them, perhaps it would be too late by then?

Author's note: Finally, Inspector Santon knows the truth and is on the right trail! Coming up next, Alan, Fiver and Hotdog storm Buxton Hall. Will they be able to stop Project Black Inferno in time and find Hazel and Hawkbit, before they are lobotomised? What will the future turn out now? Stay with me and you'll soon find out! Enjoy and please review!


	39. Chapter 39 Buxton Hall Again!

Santon and Coyle sat in chairs beside Tom Shelton's hospital bed. Upon arriving at the hospital in Newbury, the two men had been ushered into Tom's ward, where the doctor had informed the inspector that his patient had only suffered minor frostbite and would fully recover within a few days. As soon as Shelton had been introduced to the inspector, the man wasted no time in telling his visitors how a 'deranged and dangerous' Professor Johnson had ambushed him outside his flight club and attempted to kill him by throwing him into the freezing lake.

The inspector listened with interest at Shelton's statement, giving him the impression that he still thought Alan guilty. He watched carefully, as Tom's expression turned gleeful with every word, probably thinking his story would drive yet another nail in Johnson's coffin. To his utter bewilderment, no sooner had he finished, than the inspector's sympathetic expression suddenly turned stern and cold, as he took out a small tape recorder from his pocket, containing a copy of the black box's recording.

The Inspector smiled with satisfaction as he watched Shelton's face turn the colour of sour milk, as he played Robbins' conversation, who named Shelton as one of his associates. "Care to revise your story Mr Shelton? You have the right to remain silent and let the police piece everything together anyway or, you can confess right now and have a chance of lessening the amount of trouble you have landed yourself into!" he said to the now ashen-faced flight controller. Finding himself cornered and fearing the consequences when his associates would find out the mess he had caused by letting himself get caught, Shelton spilled everything.

With Coyle recording the confession, Shelton told them how he was bankrupt and heavily in debt, and had been promised a large sum from Buxton, in exchange for monitoring Dr Johnson's flight, as well as covering up Robbins' tracks after the plane was destroyed to make it look like an accident. He also told Santon how Red Hand's plan had been thwarted by Buxton's hospitalisation and ultimate death, when the location of the missile's cores had seemingly died with him, threatening to cause Red Hand to abort. Finally, he even confessed to being one of the mercenaries who had ransacked Johnson's apartment for Miles' disk, as well as participated in the butchery of Mrs Hanson, whom had caught them in the act and had to be silenced.

"I see," said Santon coldly, after Shelton was finished, "Is that all of it then?"

"Just about," muttered Shelton grimly, refusing to look at the Inspector in the eyes, knowing it was all over for him. Santon went on questioning the bedridden flight controller, "So Dr Johnson beat you to your prize in an attempt to alert the world, so that's why your…_associates_ are after him now?" he asked, hoping that Alan was still one step ahead of Red Hand. But Shelton shook his head.

"No, we tracked him down at Nuthanger Farm; we recovered all three cores and then poison-gassed the house. Johnson managed to escape along with Dr Drake, who also knows about Red Hand. Sven sent a squad to his cottage to finish them off and sent me to recover the flight recorder and destroy it. Project Black Inferno is due to launch at midnight tonight." Santon paled at these words, before his face became contorted with fury.

"You know something Mr Shelton? You're extremely lucky that you're injured, or I would have ripped you apart right here! I suggest you start thinking about finding a lawyer to defend you in court, while we try and sort out this mess. You…" he said turning to Coyle, "I want this fellow under heavy police guard around the clock. As soon as the doctor discharges him, have him taken into custody. In the meantime, I want you to check if the warrant has been issued yet and add Mr Shelton's confession to the evidence while you're at it. Or rather, forget the warrant and assemble the squad; we are storming Buxton Hall now!"

"Yes sir!" answered Coyle, and hurried out to assemble a police squad, just as the clock on the wall struck eleven; one hour to launch.

Meanwhile, back at the McEwen residence, Josie sat by the fire, thinking about everything the Inspector had told her and Bigwig. Although relieved to learn that the police were now aware of Project Black Inferno, she couldn't help but feel uneasy of what would happen, now that Alan's discovery had come out. What would happen if it reached the public's ears? How would society, or rather _the entire world_, react if they learned that these intelligent giant rabbits would someday replace humans as the dominant species on the planet? Although Bigwig had wisely left out of his confession the fact that his ancestors would someday eradicate humanity, Josie couldn't help but feel that even if Project Black Inferno was stopped, the future would somehow still turn out bleak.

As she walked towards her son's room, where Bigwig was supposedly resting, she became aware that the echo of his loud breathing had stopped. Staring through the door she realised, to her horror, the bed was empty! While she had been sitting by the fire, worrying about Alan, as well as for her missing son, the brave veteran, despite being injured, had slipped away, determined to join his friends on the battlefield.

Considering for a moment, Josie rushed to the master bedroom, where she loaded her husband's old shotgun and rushed out to her van. In a moment she was on her way towards Overton, where Bigwig was also headed, in search of Buxton Hall.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Kingsclere, Bigwig, lost and cold, was struggling to figure out the way that would lead him back to his friends. Despite being an experienced tracker, his skills were of little use to him now, since nothing looked familiar in this world and there were no traces of familiar scent around to give him a lead. The only sense of heading he had, was that Buxton Hall was located somewhere south of Josie's home. So far, the only familiar landmark he had seen was Watership Down, but nothing else to give him a sense of direction. He remembered vaguely what little Alan had told them about how these 'flat stone trails' he was walking on led from one man-warren to another. Cursing himself for not having the interest to listen better to Alan's description of his world like Pipkin and some of his other friends had done, he struggled to figure out which way he should go.

Just as he was about to give up and turn round, he heard a noise from behind and saw two large luminous eyes approaching. Swiftly ducking into some bushes to hide, he saw a large hrududu pass by; it stopped a short distance away and the driver got off and walked off behind a tree to use the loo. Seeing his opportunity, Bigwig slipped into the back of the farmer's truck, which was loaded with chicken cages. "Let's hope Frith is with me and this thing is heading in the right direction," he thought, fighting to brush away the beaks of angry chickens that were pecking at him as he snuggled up against their cages. After a few minutes, the driver returned and soon Bigwig was on his way towards Buxton Hall, where his missing friends were headed.

Meanwhile, a small van, with its headlights turned off, was slowly driving along the road that led towards Buxton Hall. Hotdog, Alan and Fiver could see Red Hand's headquarters up ahead, the house looking tall and menacing against the night sky, like the residence of Satan himself. Alan could feel goose bumps down his spine, just like when he and his friends had first sighted Efrafa back in the future. Only this time they were not dealing with giant savage rabbits, but with a bloodthirsty clan of terrorists and a live, nuclear satellite.

As their neared their destination, Alan outlined their plan to Hotdog and Fiver: they would attempt to break into the property undetected and plant a sleep agent capsule in the manor's ventilation system, hopefully overpowering the entire faction in the process. Once the enemy were safely incapacitated, they would start working on defusing the missile until the police arrived and took over for them. Hopefully Drake would be able to send help shortly so hopefully, their infiltration would involve no direct confrontation and pose the minimum possible risk to their lives. If worse came to worse, they would use explosives to blow up the hideout along with the entire faction.

Suddenly, as they reached the boundaries of the estate, Hotdog stopped the van. Staring through the windshield, Alan saw why; before them was a locked steel gate, the only entrance through a high wire fence that surrounded the entire property, including the warehouse, where Project Black Inferno was concealed. Fixed to the fence was a large sign spelling:

PRIVATE PROPERTY;

NO TRESPASSING!

And it wasn't the only one; bolted to the gate was another sign spelling, 'DANGER! HIGH VOLTAGE; KEEP OFF.' Atop each of the pylons that supported the fence was a blinking red light, indicating that it was live and dangerous. Alan cursed under his breath, "They is no way we can get through that thing without being fried." But Hotdog had an idea in mind.

"That thing must get its juice from somewhere; maybe we could trace the source and cut it off from the _outside_?" he suggested, staring at a nearby power line that went over the fence, from one electrical pylon to another, all the way to the local power station, supplying power to the property, including the electrified fence. Alan smiled, "You're a bloody genius Hotdog, you know that?"

"That's one of the advantages of being a criminal," replied Hotdog smugly. After hiding the van behind some trees on the edge of the road and out of sight, the three companions picked up their equipment and walked over to the nearest pylon outside the fence.

Although they could see the power line running right at the top, it was of little consolation as the pylon was nearly a foot wide and made of solid concrete with steel reinforcements; cutting it down to cut off the power feed would mean an enormous delay, which they couldn't afford. Just as Alan was considering risking using some of Hotdog's homemade plastic explosives, which would do the trick but inevitably give them away in the process, suddenly, Fiver called in an urgent voice, "Hide! Someone's coming!" They ducked into a nearby ditch and watched as another car drove up to the gate.

The driver got out, looking rather irritated; they could hear his furious muttering as he passed by their hiding place without seeing them, "The boss is going to be furious when he hears that idiot Shelton got himself arrested. Ah well, at least he will be satisfied with _me_ when I show him that whimpering midget…" he muttered, as he walked up to the gate to open it. But he never got there.

Suddenly, Hotdog pulled out a balas from his pocket and swung it in the air, before throwing it in the direction of the unsuspecting terrorist. It coiled itself around the terrorist's legs and the man instantly fell on the ground. Not wanting to give him a chance to shout for help, the three friends sprang from their hiding place and pinned him down, Alan's gun pressed hard against his head, "Shut up, or I'll blow your brains out!"

But the man continued to struggle, until Hotdog drew a massive baseball bat tucked in his belt, and struck the struggling man hard over the head; the terrorist instantly sunk into unconsciousness. Hotdog confiscated the man's gun while Alan frantically searched the man's pockets for a key to the gate; unfortunately, there wasn't one. And now they had a prisoner on their hands, which they had to dispose off, least he give them away should he escape.

"Come on, let's get rid of him before someone else comes along. Take his head." They lifted the unconscious man and carried him back to his car. As Alan was about to toss him in the back seat, he noticed Fiver was sniffing the air, as if having picked up a familiar scent, "What is it Fiver? Can you sense something?"

"No, it's not what I _sense_; it's what I can _smell_…" Alan looked confused, "What? Is there is someone else coming?" he asked, as he and Hotdog looked around, thinking that they were being watched. Suddenly, he heard Fiver whisper, "_Hlao?_"

Realisation hit Alan in the fraction of a second; before Fiver had even finished uttering that word, the man had leapt forward, scanning every inch of the vehicle for Pipkin. His eyes fell upon a bulgy garbage sack in the back seat. Picking it up, he could feel something furry wrapped inside it. Tearing the bag wide open, both Alan and Fiver gasped in horror as Pipkin's stiff body fell out at their feet. The small buck had been wrapped into the airtight plastic too long and seemingly suffocated; saliva trailed down his mouth, indicating the painful effects of asphyxiation. Alan felt his blood run cold with dread.

Bending close to the dwarf rabbit, fearing the worst, Alan nearly fainted with joy as he felt a weak but steady pulse against the buck's throat, "He's alive! Thank God!"

Taking off his cap, he proceeded to use it as a fan, giving the buck as much fresh air as he could, while Fiver licked his eyelids and nostrils, trying to revive him. Hotdog took out his snuffbox and held it open close to Pipkin's nose. After a few seconds, the snuff took effect, bringing the small buck back to his senses. Pipkin sneezed once before starting coughing painfully, inhaling gulps of fresh air. His confusion was instantly replaced with joy as Alan's smiling face loomed into view above him.

"A…Alan? Is it really you? Please don't tell me I am dreaming," the young dwarf muttered as Alan picked him up for a cuddle. "No lad, I am very real; we all are. Oh Pipkin, thank God you're all right!" Fiver nuzzled Pipkin as Alan gently put him down.

"Thank Frith you're safe Hlao. I thought we had lost you too!" As the two rabbits momentarily enjoyed their reunion, Hotdog steered Alan's attention back to the incapacitated terrorist; the man was still alive and would soon regain consciousness. Even if they killed him, his absence would soon alert the rest of the faction that something was wrong. To add to their problems, they still hadn't found a way into the impenetrable Buxton Estate. Staring back at the pylon, he came up with an idea of how to literally kill two birds with one stone.

"Hotdog, help me get this scumbag back into his car!" They picked up the unconscious terrorist, sat him in the driver's seat, making sure his foot was resting on the accelerator. Alan then started the engine, turned the wheel, so the vehicle was in line with the pylon, and put it into gear. The car shot off and slammed head-on into the pylon, which vibrated dangerously, straining the power line in the process; in an instant, all the lights on the property had gone out, as a short-circuit tripped the circuit breakers. However, the pylon didn't collapse as Alan had hoped; now it was only a matter of time before the power would be restored. He turned to his companions.

"This distraction won't work for long. If the wiring isn't damaged, they'll have everything restored within five, maybe ten minutes, tops. That's exactly the amount of time we have to make it to the launch bay undetected. Let's go!"

"Wait, what about him?" Hotdog asked, pointing at the terrorist still trapped inside the wreckage of his car, "I think he's still alive…" Alan only shook his head.

"Well that's too bad because we are leaving him there," he said, feeling no sympathy whatsoever; that bastard had almost killed his beloved Pipkin. "He is no longer in any condition to give us away anyway. By the time they figure out what happened, we'll be in business." Leaving the wrecked car lying against the battered pylon, the group of four made for a secluded spot on the side of the fence, away from prying eyes, from where they could climb up.

Picking up a branch, Alan climbed onto the concrete ledge where the pylons of the fence were firmly fixed into the ground. Giving the dead warning light a quick glance, he tossed a branch against the cables; as he had expected, the branch simply touched the fence and then dropped to the ground, without anything happening, "It looks safe; the power is off," Alan said, touching the now harmless cables, "Now, time for the monkey bars!"

"Wait, what about us? _We_ can't climb that thing!" Fiver said, as he and Pipkin stared at the high fence, an obstacle impossible for any rabbit to scale. "Well maybe, we could…" Alan muttered, as he tried to pry the wire netting apart and make a hole, but found the wires were welded firmly against each other. "All right, we'll have to do this the hard way; I will carry the two of you over the top first, one at a time, and then go back to help you with the equipment," he said to Hotdog who nodded.

With Hotdog keeping a sharp lookout, Alan, holding Fiver against his chest, climbed the cables, over the top of the fence and into the Buxton estate. Soon, Fiver and Pipkin were safely on the other side as Alan climbed over one last time to help Hotdog with their equipment. So far they hadn't encountered any trouble and Alan was beginning to hope tonight's mission would go without further incident. His hopes were short-lived however, when he saw Fiver suddenly go tharn and collapse; a familiar sign of imminent trouble.

Meanwhile, brandishing their guns and flashlights, Sven and his deputy Norris made their way towards the front gates, from where the commotion from the crashing car had been heard, just before the lights in their headquarters had gone out. As Norris shone his flashlight on the road, they saw their comrade's car lying crashed against the pylon, "What the bloody hell? Has that idiot Otto been drinking again?"

Walking over to the wrecked vehicle, they saw its driver was miraculously still alive; however, the front of the car had collapsed on impact, pinning his crushed legs in a painful grip. The sight of Shelton missing instantly told Sven something was wrong. Pulling open the battered door, Sven kicked the man in the ribs, causing him to regain full consciousness, "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED, YOU MORON? AND WHERE IS SHELTON?" he roared, grabbing the man by the scruff of his neck, while aiming a revolver at his face. Trembling, and close to passing out again from the pain, the man explained.

"I…I don't know. We traced Drake back to the Cessna crash site and caught another of those giant rabbits. Shelton stayed behind to finish off Drake, who had gone to retrieve the flight recorder and send me ahead to bring back the rabbit. When I got here, I went to ring the bell and…I don't remember what happened then. Please, help me…" Shertok however, realising that Otto hadn't been drinking (there was no odour of alcohol) and that the road wasn't icy enough to cause a skid, was instantly struck with suspicion. With a furious glare, he rounded on his injured comrade.

"You useless, pathetic piece of trash! We are only a few hours away from our moment of triumph and you let an _intruder_ get past you? Well, I have no need for failures in my faction!" Without another word, he shot Otto in the head, killing him instantly.

Norris stood frozen in fear at his master's fury; although he had been enrolled in Red Hand for a while and accustomed to the faction's harsh discipline, his master's rapidly growing paranoia to fulfil their late leader's ambition was going too far. Yet he didn't dare utter a word, knowing he'd be joining Otto if he did. Sven rounded on Norris, "Have the boys restore the power quickly! Then go and inspect the perimeter; we might have an uninvited guest lurking about in the grounds and I want him, dead or alive!" Norris turned and hurried to carry out the order, eager to get away from his deranged boss, before Sven decided to kill him too, simply to burn off more steam.

However, unbeknownst to either of them, a second intruder had also slipped in through the open gates, while they had been investigating the 'accident'. The large figure slipped behind the hedges marking the edges of the garden paths, following a faint but familiar scent, straight towards his companions. Bigwig had finally made it to Buxton Hall.

After having travelled on the farmer's truck for a while but getting nowhere, he had began to grow desperate; suddenly, as the truck had coincidently passed through the outskirts of Overton, he had noticed a familiar landmark; the outline of Buxton Hall was unmistakable, even as a new and habitable structure, in contrast to the run-down ruin back in the future. Jumping from the hrududu, he had cautiously approached the majestic building, hoping to find his companions, or else go in alone.

Meanwhile, just as Alan was about to scale the fence one more time to help with the equipment, he saw Fiver go rigid and collapse, trembling violently; he was having another vision. Bending down, he heard his little friend mutter, "The Shining Wire of death awaits a sacrifice; one has to fall or the dark future remains foretold." Then Fiver blacked out. As Alan was wondering what this new premonition meant, he heard Hotdog call out.

"Hey AJ; how about a hand with all this gear, huh?"

As Alan watched Hotdog climb back onto the fence and toss him the bomb kit and his backpack, before climbing back down for their weapons arsenal, Fiver's premonition suddenly became clear: the 'Shining Wire of Death' was the electrified fence and _Hotdog_ was the sacrifice! Just as the smuggler was making his way up again, with the rest of their equipment loaded on his shoulders, the buzzing sound of a warning alarm was heard, signalling that the fence was about to power up again, "HOTDOG, LEAVE THOSE! THE FENCE IS ABOUT TO POWER UP AGAIN! HURRY MAN!"

In an instant, Hotdog had discarded their weapons and was frantically climbing the fence; but it was already too late. Just as he had made it over the top, the power came back on, sending a powerful flow of electricity trough the cables; Hotdog was instantly thrown from the fence and landed in the snow, his hair all sizzled and smoky and his hands blistering with electrical burns.

Alan bent down to tend to him, expecting to see his last remaining childhood friend dead; however, for the second time that night, fate had decided to be merciful. In the system reboot, the power had been irregular and reduced, insufficient to cause an otherwise fatal electrocution. As Alan shook Hotdog, the smuggler weakly opened his eyes and coughed painfully, as the electrocution had dried up his throat, "It…was only…a little zap AJ. That's not near enough to take down an old dog like me!" Then he blacked out. Alan laughed mildly in relief; but his moment of relief was cut short.

Suddenly, the cocking noise of a gun was heard behind them, followed by a sneering voice, "Hold it right there or you're dead! Hands over your head!" Norris stepped out of the bushes, his revolver fixed on them, "I thought I heard voices back here. I hope someone sent you a coffin for Christmas, Dr Johnson; you'll be needing it very soon…" But suddenly, another figure had sprang from the shadows, tackling Norris; the man was thrown sideways, straight against the restored electrified fence. There was an electric flash, a scream, and Norris's sizzled corpse fell onto the icy lawn.

Alan, caught by surprise at the sudden appearance of the terrorist and then their unexpected saviour, instinctively picked up Norris' discarded gun and aimed it at the figure, who was getting to his feet again. Turning to stare in their direction, he spoke in the voice Alan recognised as a friend's, whom he thought he had lost earlier that evening, "For Frith's sake, point that damned thing away from me, or I'll cuff the living daylights out of you!" Before Alan could even formulate some sort of response, Fiver and Pipkin both gasped in disbelief.

"_Thlayli_?"

Shining his flashlight in the figure's direction, Alan's suspicions were instantly confirmed; standing before them was none other than Bigwig, looking battered and sporting some heavy bandaging, yet very much alive. Hadn't Alan been struck dumb with shock, he would have probably laughed himself silly by the fact that Bigwig was also covered from head to toe in white chicken feathers from his ride on the farmer's truck, giving him a most hilarious appearance.

"_Bigwig_?" he gasped, finally regaining the use of his voice, "How did you…I thought you were…why are you dressed like a chicken?" he stammered, lost for words. Bigwig shot Alan a glare at that last question, as Pipkin and Fiver nuzzled him, overjoyed at seeing that their Captain of Owsla had survived. Bigwig smiled mildly in return, grateful to be finally reunited with his friends, but frowned as he noticed the absence of Hazel and Hawkbit.

"Where are Hazel and Hawkbit? Why aren't they with you?" The sad looks on his companions' faces instantly told Bigwig something terrible had happened. Sighing, Alan slowly turned to face Bigwig, muttering in a sad voice, "They are dead. After we got separated, those thugs poison-gassed the house; they didn't make it out. I am very sorry Bigwig. I did my best to save them…" For a moment Bigwig was struck dumb in shock as the news sunk in, before his expression turned furious.

"HOW COULD YOU LET THAT HAPPEN, YOU SELFISH BASTARD? I BLOODY WELL NEARLY GAVE MY LIFE TO GIVE YOU ALL A CHANCE TO ESCAPE, AND YOU LET THEM GET KILLED? BY FRITH, I'LL BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY, YOU CURSED, EMBLEER ITHE!"

Before Bigwig could strike however, Fiver and Pipkin had jumped in front of Alan, shielding him from the enraged Owsla veteran, "Bigwig please! This won't do us any good. Alan almost died trying to get the _two of us_ out of that death trap; if he stayed behind for Hazel and Hawkbit, he would have only perished with them." Bigwig lowered his paw, but continued to glare at Alan in disapproval at his failure.

"How the hell are _you_ still alive anyway? I saw those bastards shoot you!" Alan asked after a few seconds of silence, when Bigwig had calmed down enough to control his temper.

"It wasn't a fatal wound," the veteran replied gruffly, staring down at the bandages around his torso, "That chap that tried to arrest you earlier, Santon found me and brought me to Josie. He told me he had figured out the truth and wants to help us. After he left, saying he'd send reinforcements to help you, I gave Josie the slip and managed to get here by stowing away on a hrududu loaded with chickens. By Frith, what a hard time I had finding you… Your world is so different from ours and non of my tracking skills are of any use round here!" Alan's heart skipped a beat at the news.

"Santon knows about the future and Project Black Inferno? Then perhaps help is underway at this moment? But it doesn't matter now," he said, shrugging it off as he cast a glance at his watch, "We have to do this now, with or without help; we only have 50 minutes left. Let's move!" At that moment, they were startled by a revived Hotdog, whom they had forgotten all about.

"Missed me?" he asked as he walked over to them, cradling his burnt hands. Despite that, he seemed healthy if not a bit surprised, as he caught site of Bigwig, "Oh, and who is your King Kong friend here?"

"Bigwig, this is an old friend of mine, Hotdog. I've enlisted him to help us out here. Hotdog, this is Bigwig, our captain of Owsla...ahem, I mean, our commanding officer." Bigwig nodded curtly as Hotdog muttered sarcastically, "A _rabbit_ CO? It looks like the Planet of the Apes is turning out to be the Planet of the _Rabbits_ instead!" However, his joke was cut short as Alan reminded him of their incomplete mission and extremely limited breathing room they had to complete it.

Grabbing hold of Norris' dead body and dragged it into a flowerbed and covered it with snow. Then, gathering their remaining equipment, including Norris' gun, which was the only weapon they had left, the group of five made their way towards the secret launch bay.

Surprisingly enough, they didn't meet anyone else or encounter any further trouble as they approached the warehouse. After sticking some chewing gum on the lens of a security camera monitoring the entrance, Hotdog got to work to pick the lock on the slide doors. After a few minutes of hard work, the lock clicked open; each man grabbed hold of the opposite door and pushed. The doors slid apart on their rail and opened easily. Taking a deep breath, the anxious group stepped inside, closing the doors behind them. Alan and Hotdog turned on their flashlights, illuminating the scene.

Just as Alan had guessed, the building was nothing but a decoy; there were no cargo containers or anything found in a warehouse. The building was completely empty and bare, except for a circular shaft in the centre of the room, which resembled a well. Poking up from its depths was the familiar red pointed head of a ballistic missile; Project Black Inferno stood in its launch tube before them, just where they had found it in the future.

"Well shiver my timbers! That thing looks like one hell of a pickle," muttered Hotdog, staring open mouthed at the satellite waiting to be launched. Both Fiver and Pipkin were staring down at the pit with terrified expressions, as if recalling some unpleasant memory. Alan couldn't blame them; that pit was the very same place where they had been held hostage by Woundwort, the place where they had seen Vilthuril die. Even Alan and Bigwig, who were the toughest in the group, couldn't help but feel their blood run cold as the place brought back memories of the battle that had cost the lives of so many of their friends. Alan cleared his throat.

"All right, no time to doodle. Derek said, to shut it down we simply have to hit the emergency override switch; that will cause the flight computer to crash and thus, abort the launch. All we have to do is reach that switch on the side of the housing." One by one, they stepped over the rim of the shaft, onto the catwalk and walked over across to the missile. A faint beeping sound coming from the payload, confirmed Alan's suspicions that the doomsday machine was armed and ready. His eyes instantly shot to the slot housing the familiar red button, which triggered the override. But as he removed the safety cap to hit the button, he found…

"Why isn't it blinking?" Alan thought as he pressed the override but found, to his surprise, it remained completely unresponsive. They was no need to ask why; Sven, intent on making sure nobody would be able to foil his plans, had sabotaged the override, rendering Derek's override system useless. They had just lost their only means of grounding the satellite the easy way.

"All right," Alan said grimly, "I guess we'll have just to do this the _hard_ way." He turned to the small hatchway in the side, the only way into the interior of the probe, and opened it. Inside, they could see a narrow crawlspace amidst a bundle of folded-up satellite dishes and antennas, which transmitted or received data in flight. The nose of the probe housed the electromagnetic pulse gun while the module on the other end, housed the power source, guidance system, thrusters control and fuel cells.

Crawling through the hatchway, between the nose and main body, he found a small maintenance compartment, for astronauts to service the satellite in space. Hardly the size of a telephone booth with many different control panels fixed everywhere and at the bottom, Alan could also see the ends of three sealed tubes with radiation hazard crests on them; they were the slots where the fusion cores were inserted, like giant batteries, supplying power to the satellite.

Squeezing through, Alan climbed down into the probe, leaving Hotdog, Pipkin, Fiver and Bigwig on the catwalk to stand guard. The compartment was drastically small and narrow, making him feel horribly cramped, like a sardine in a can. His eyes fell on a computer screen that displayed the system status in Russian characters; a digital chronometer beside the computer was counting down from just under 43 minutes to launch. And on another panel beside it was…

"There; that's what we need!" Alan cried out in joy as he recognised the key that activated all the major systems. Instantly, Alan reached out and turned the cylindrical key to 'abort' but, to his utter disappointment, just as Derek had said, the system didn't shut down automatically. Instead, an icon appeared on the computer screen with a single phrase on it:

BLUE - 47 INPUT

"I was afraid of that," he said with a frown, staring at the screen, "It's a code port; it needs a password to complete the override." Although not tempered with like the override switch, it was still just another dead end without this unknown security password.

"Perhaps you could hack into the computer and break the encryption?" Alan asked hopefully, staring up at Hotdog, who had also climbed into the probe for a closer look.

"I think so…" the former bomb disposal expert replied slowly, "It should take…just a couple of hours tops." Alan rolled his eyes, "_Just a couple of hours_? We only have 41 minutes before this thing goes up! Any alternatives?" Alan asked, feeling his hopes shatter. Hotdog shook his head. Doing some quick thinking, he climbed out of the probe, back onto the catwalk to brief the others.

"Unfortunately this isn't going to be as easy as we had hoped. It looks like we only have two options to choose from: One, someone sneaks into the manor, to steal the codebooks and blueprints from the safe, and bring them back here. Two, we just give up and let it go off. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and the launch system fails at the last moment…"

"So, we need to infiltrate their headquarters, to accomplish our mission? Fine, let's get on with it!" Bigwig said, without the slightest fear of invading a terrorist's clan single-handedly. They all turned to stare at him, "Easier said than done Bigwig. Just stroll through a place that's swarming with snipers and spotlights? We'd be dead in two seconds!"

"Then, what in Frith's name to you propose we do?" Bigwig retorted incredulously, "Turn and run like cowards? Well, _you_ may have already left your Chief behind to save your own neck but I…" Before Bigwig could finish his sentence however, Fiver had sprung at Bigwig, knocking him over. Alan was surprised; he had never seen the small buck look so angry before. Fiver, softly, yet fiercely, snarled at Bigwig in a cold voice, very unlike his own.

"Bigwig, how dare you say such a thing! Alan would _never_ abandon Hazel to save himself and no one else for that matter! Throughout our journey, he has struggled and suffered more than any of us on our behalf, and I am disgusted to hear you accuse him like this! Alan is a loyal friend, not a coward! Your harsh words aren't only an insult to Alan, but also an insult to my brother's memory!" But Bigwig, furious from being shouted at by a rabbit half his size, roughly pushed Fiver off of him, nearly knocking him over the edge of the catwalk.

"You delusional, little runt! Can't you see, the more we associate with the likes of him, the more trouble comes our way? The Threarah was right when he said that rabbits weren't meant to intermingle with humans. First our world is destroyed and all of our friends killed, all because of _him_! Now, your brother and Hawkbit fall to the enemy, because of his inability to protect us! Should we wait for the next death to see reason?"

Seeing that Bigwig was going too far, Alan seized the mighty veteran by the neck and pinned him against the side of the satellite, "That's enough Bigwig! I want you calm, I want you cool, now!" he roared, holding a pistol against Bigwig's throat, hoping it would scare him enough to snap him out of this hysteria, "We don't have time for further arguments. Now, unless you want Hazel and the others to have died in vein, you must put yourself together and do your duty, soldier! Do you understand?" Although Alan's improvised cure for psychological breakdown seemed to calm Bigwig down somewhat, the mighty veteran continued to stare at Alan with a cold glare as he muttered, "Fine." Satisfied, Alan let go of him and turned back to the task in hand.

"I am afraid AJ is right, Furhead," Hotdog said grimly ("My name is _Bigwig_," Bigwig growled incredulously), "I don't think we actually have any guns left to storm the place even if we wanted to." They piled all their equipment on the floor before them, to take a full inventory of their arsenal.

Aside from part of Hotdog's bomb kit, Alan's backpack and a few other odds and ends they had been carrying in their pockets, everything else, including their weapons, had been lost when they had been climbing the fence. They no longer had any guns, ammunition, explosives or any means of contacting help. They original plan was undoubtedly no longer applicable; unfortunately, it was also too late to turn back now.

"Alright, this is how we're going to it: Bigwig and I will try and sneak in through the secret passage, just like we did back in Efrafa, or _in reverse_. We already know where the safe is; if we find the codes, we will bring them back here. In the meantime, I want the three of you to start working on this thing, to find some other way to shut it down, in case we can't find the codebooks in time. Come on, let's get moving!"

Hotdog unpacked his remaining tools and climbed inside the probe, where he started unscrewing the main computer console, to reach the works behind it. Leaving Hotdog to work on defusing the missile manually, with Fiver and Pipkin watching his back, Alan took Norris' gun and then, he and Bigwig descended down a ladder projecting from the catwalk, straight to the bottom of the shaft where the tunnel entrance should be.

Unfortunately, they found the former entrance to the old mine had been cemented up for reinforcement purposes, when the shaft had been rigged as a launch tube. However, there was another narrow passage in the wall, where many pipes and cables projected from, hidden behind a grillwork. Removing the cover, Alan shone his flashlight inside, revealing a narrow horizontal tunnel, which resembled a ventilation duct, leading into the direction of the manor, "Let's go!"

They crawled in through the opening and down the tunnel. After a few minutes of crawling through the claustrophobically narrow tunnel in silence, they finally came to another opening up ahead. Kicking off the grillwork, they found themselves in a cavern; they had reached the mine.

They dome-shaped cavern they were standing in seemed to have been converted into a temporary workshop, judging by all the tools and machinery that lay scattered about. A familiar massive rock platform stood at the far end, as well as the circular pit in the centre of the chamber, which Alan recognised as the very place where he had fought Woundwort in the future. Flashbacks of the battle resurfaced in his mind as he stared at the caverns that would someday become the domain of the most vicious and feared tyrant of the future world.

He peered down the shaft where Woundwort would plummet to his death several centuries later, half-expecting to see the fierce rabbit's corpse lying down there, amidst the remains of his slaughtered victims. Of course, now there was nothing other than a few stacked crates, which were lowered down there by a chain hoist. For an instant, his mind played a trick on him, as he imagined Woundwort's ghost suddenly springing up from the depths of the shaft and pulling him down to his death too. Quickly shrugging it off, he turned and headed off down a tunnel at the opposite end of the chamber, Bigwig in tow.

To their utmost dismay, the place looked so different from the future that they soon found themselves lost at a fork. Although it was only a few hundred yards to the manor, being lost in this underground maze without a compass, would only result in them going round in circles for hours. Feeling their time was running out, Alan flipped a coin a pointed in the direction of the left tunnel, "This way."

Finally, they reached a familiar landmark; they found themselves in the mine's generator room, which would some day serve as Sven's tomb. Just like they had discovered in the future, Red Hand was currently using the cavern as a secret armoury, where all their dirty arsenals, aside from Project Black Inferno, were safely hidden from prying eyes. There were many armoured cases containing arms, munitions, explosives, and other military equipment, enough to supply a small army. The generator stood in a corner, looking brand new and fully operational, illuminating the mine with artificial light.

The sight of all these weapons instantly boosted Alan's confidence of success; this time, they had found all the weapons they needed in their greatest time of need. Quickly going through the boxes, he started pocketing all the guns and ammunition he could carry, replacing his own lost arsenal. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a familiar armoured case containing half a dozen grenades inside; the same grenades that Robbins had used against them in the future. Turning back to Bigwig, he saw the tough veteran staring at a corner of the room, looking troubled, "What's wrong?"

"I was thinking of Holly," he said gesturing towards the far corner. "After you were overpowered and carried off to Woundwort, leaving the Owsla to finish the rest of us off, Holly ordered me to take the others and run, while he held them at bay. And I couldn't do a damn thing to help him or at least avenge him. That little hraka Vervain was there, gloating how we were all going to die for crossing him, while taunting me for letting Holly die in vain. It was only when Campion showed up with the rebel slaves, were we able to gain the upper hand. That coward Vervain slipped away during the fight," he muttered, looking extremely depressed, "If I had only killed him when we had him in our grasp, Holly and Campion might still be alive now."

Realising that the truth behind Bigwig's misery was that he felt ashamed for his previous outburst, Alan placed a comforting hand on the burly buck's shoulder, "Bigwig, don't you start blaming yourself; you are no more at fault than I am. Right now, we must concentrate on our task; we still have this rare chance of undoing the deaths of our friends. Just like you once told me, if we despair or start fighting amongst ourselves, then the others will all have died in vain." Bigwig turned to stare at the man, looking very uncomfortable; apologizing wasn't one of Bigwig's virtues. Yet his shame overrode his pride and he finally blurted it out, desperate to get it off his chest.

"Alan, I…I am sorry about what I said back there. Fiver was right; I had no right to say you didn't care about us, after everything you have done on our behalf. It was just…that I hate so much losing a rabbit on my watch. When I joined the Owsla back at Sandleford after my parents died, I swore I would never lose a fellow rabbit to the enemy," he said grimly. Although touched by the fact that Bigwig had apologized to him, Alan had his mind elsewhere; how to set things, as to trigger a chain of events across time that would ensure the survival of their friends from their failed infiltration of Efrafa.

"Actually, I think I have found a way to make the impossible happen," Alan said, improvising a theoretical time strategy in his mind, "If we remove the grenades, then they won't exist here in the future for Robbins to find and use against us. On the other hand," he said, suddenly realising they had hit a paradox, "When we passed through here, we were desperately in need of weapons to use against _the Efrafans_. We were overpowered because we had nothing to fight back with. So, what if I _hide_ these someplace where _we_ could find them at the right moment in the future, rather than Robbins? If it works, we might just gain the upper hand when we need it! It's just a matter of setting up one big chess strategy, in order to make this little scheme work."

Staring around the room, he soon spotted a good hiding place where Robbins wasn't likely to find the grenades in this new timeline; a hole beneath a loose stone slab, beside the generator. Removing all but two of the grenades, in the unlikely event that they ended up again in the wrong hands, he shut the case and closed it tight. Then he picked it up, placed it in the hole and pushed the stone back into place, which blended in with the floor, hiding the hole from view. A small arsenal now lay in a safe hiding place, not to be disturbed for the next 700 years, when their infiltration party would hopefully discover it in their time of need.

Although he knew that several of their friends, including Holly, Boxwood, and Haystack hadn't been killed as a result of the grenades, and thus this scheme couldn't undo their fate, at least it would give them all a fighting chance. The rest of the grenades he tucked in his belt for another purpose; Robbins' plan would now be used against his former associates, by means of the very same weapons he had used against Alan's group. He turned back to Bigwig.

"Everything is set; I just hope McEwen or one of us stumbles on that hole this time round, when we pass through here. Come Bigwig, the real challenge still awaits us: to change the future!" Following the familiar route, they left the chamber, making their way up the secret tunnel, into Buxton Hall.

Author's note: Alan and his party are coming down the final line! The moment has come to either undo everything that Robbins caused, or fail and condemn the future forever. Will they succeed this time and survive? And will they ever return to their world? Find out in the next chapter, 'Changing the Future!' Do enjoy and please review! Thank you!


	40. Chapter 40 Changing the Future

Hawkbit and Hazel lay strapped down on Samir's butchery counter, as the sadistic torturer unpacked his surgery kit. After Sven had informed them of their upcoming fate, even Hazel couldn't find the courage to control his fear any longer. Rather than some horrible death by dismemberment or being flayed alive, their captor had instead ordered something far worse than death for them: _lobotomy_. Although he had never seen a lobotomised rabbit before, the thought of having his brain cut up, resulting in permanent loss of memory and sense of self, leaving the victim like an empty shell forever, sounded nothing less than living death.

Hazel shuddered as he pictured himself and Hawkbit in that state, being paraded around like trophies or being subjected to more of those grotesque 'animal experimentations' that Sven had described to them, where animals underwent vivisection while still alive and conscious to watch their entrails being ripped out before their eyes. He turned to stare at Hawkbit with pity, watching his sarcastic, yet loyal friend about to be sick in fear of their predicament, tears running down his battered face. His sadness only increased as he remembered what Sven had told them, about Alan being dead. For hours, Hazel had sat waiting, praying that Alan would come for them, but now his hopes of rescue were long gone.

If Alan had escaped, then why hadn't he come for them? Even if he thought them dead, surely Fiver would realise it was otherwise through his visions, just like he had done on so many occasions? Or was he dead too, along with Pipkin? Torturous thoughts went through Hazel's head, as he imagined what could have become of Fiver and Pipkin. What if Alan had indeed been killed and now his brother and friend were trapped alone in an unfamiliar world for the rest of his lives? What had they done to deserve this fate? Was it a punishment from Frith, because their ancestors had betrayed and destroyed their own creators? Was this the way it was meant to end for them?

He thought miserably of all their friends; Pimpernel, Boxwood, Haystack, Acorn, Speedwell, Buckthorn, Violet, Strawberry, Nildrohein, Blackberry, Dandelion, Hyzenthlay, Thethuthinang, Nelthilta, Blackavar, Silverweed, Holly, Campion, Silver, Bigwig, and so many others that had died over this business. Perhaps the Threarah had been right after all? Maybe Alan's kind _was_ indeed nothing but a curse upon their kind? Maybe it had been a mistake of admitting him and his friends into their lives? Many different 'maybes' went through his mind, as he lay there, bleeding and sore, awaiting his doom.

Samir was ready; all the gleaming tools were spread out on the operating table, along with a couple of empty packing crates, which resembled rabbit-sized coffins, standing beside the bench, awaiting them. The evil man filled a syringe with morphine and approached the tables where Hazel and Hawkbit lay strapped down.

"No need to look so freaked out; it's not as bad as it sounds," he sneered nastily, enjoying the sight of the terrified rabbits, "With this anaesthetic, you shouldn't feel a thing. I do hope your metabolism doesn't act negatively to the drug, or the results could be quite…painful. Not to mention what it would be like if I had to operate with you still conscious. You'd probably bust my eardrums with your screams of pain!" he laughed sadistically. Hazel and Hawkbit both shuddered, tears of fear and mental agony running down their faces. "The morphine should work, just in time for me to cut up your brains and pack you away for transport, before the real show starts."

Standing between the two, he brought the syringe towards Hawkbit's trembling form. The ashen-coloured buck was panting heavily, as if expecting to be inflicted with some terrible pain, yet he only felt a slight sting as Samir injected the anaesthetic into his thigh. No sooner had the needle come out, when Hawkbit started feeling a rapidly intensifying drowsiness overcome him, as the drug acted. With his last ounce of strength, he turned to stare at his Chief, muttering, "It was a honour knowing you Hazel-rah." Hazel nodded in gratitude, before Hawkbit's eyes closed for the last time.

"Last words, huh? How touching," Samir sneered, as he filled a second syringe. Hazel felt his insides turn cold as ice; his turn had come. Soon his eyes would also close for the final time just like Hawkbit's; he'd never see the world with any sense of self or sanity ever again. He and Hawkbit would awake as the living dead, two mindless creatures to do their captors' bidding with no free will to even think otherwise. Just as Samir brought the syringe towards him, Hazel quickly concentrated with all his might on all the happy memories he had, intent of reliving them one last time before they were all stripped from him forever.

He thought of Fiver, their childhood, how they had grown up dependant on each other and all their adventures together. He thought of Hyzenthlay, and how he had come to love her during their single night together and his dream of her becoming part of his future. He even thought of Alan, his love and devotion to him and Fiver, how he had become like another brother to him… Just before the drug took effect, Hazel turned to stare at the night sky through the small barred window of the dungeon, muttering towards the heavens, "May Frith protect you Hrair-roo, wherever you are. Frithaes, ma rusati-roo!" Then, his eyes closed for the last time, as he sunk into a deep sleep.

Samir watched as both rabbits sunk into unconsciousness, before turning to his tools. Putting on his surgical gloves and apron, his picked up a razor-sharp scalpel and brought it close to the light to check its sharpness. The deadly weapon shone brightly, reflecting the light on its gleaming surface. Satisfied, he approached the now sedated Hazel and Hawkbit, preparing to peel open their scalps and reach into their skulls, to operate on their brains. Another twenty minutes and the two rabbits would be reduced to a permanent vegetable state, unable to ever reveal any of Red Hand's secrets to the outside world, yet priceless laboratory specimen to be sold at the highest bidder.

Meanwhile, Hotdog, Fiver, and Pipkin were still working furiously to disarm the satellite. Hotdog, cramped inside the probe, had removed the control panel, revealing the main circuit board underneath; bundles of different multicoloured wires trailed away from it, supplying power and data to different systems. While Fiver kept watch on the catwalk, Pipkin stood at the hatchway, holding a flashlight in his mouth, so Hotdog could see what he was doing. The man carefully drew a crude diagram of all the circuits in his notepad, trying to determine the correct override procedure. "They seem to have placed many false circuits and trip wires to confuse anyone who would try and get this far. Let's see…"

His heart pounding wildly at the prospect of making a mistake, he carefully proceeded to cut each wire in code colour order, hoping to trigger a manual override, "All right, red is copper to copper so it isn't a booby trap. Cutting…" He cut the red wire but nothing happened; the timer remained on a steady countdown with the status screen all green. "Next wire, black, again copper to copper. Cutting…" Taking a deep breath he cut it, only with the same results. "Okay, let's try green. Copper to copper; safe to cut." Again, nothing happened.

"What the hell is this? We should have seen some sort of reaction by now. Are they all false wires, or has the colouring been deliberately mixed up during the assembly to confuse us?" He glanced at the timer, which was down to 29 minutes to launch, "All right, let's try another way."

Abandoning the wire-colour-coding procedure, Hotdog focused on examining each circuit terminal, using a voltmeter and Derek's notes for reference, trying to determine what each reading indicated, "Let's try blue. Oh, wait a second; this one is attached to a small screw. No, no, no, that's a bypass; a booby trap. Let's try the yellow. Here, little fella, you hold the flashlight steady on here while I reach inside." With Pipkin keeping the flashlight pointed into the open panel, Hotdog reached deep inside the works with his pincers, reaching for the yellow wire. Suddenly, his foot stepped on a loose screw that he had dropped on the floor; he tripped, losing his grip on the pincers, which slipped away and brushed against the surface of an exposed circuit board, shorting it out.

Hotdog gasped, expecting that short-circuit to trigger the launch mode and kill them all; but the timer remained armed and running. He sighed angrily in realisation, "It's a decoy! The whole thing is a fake! The real works must be deep inside the shell, out of reach. That explains why there is no reaction; we've been playing with a dummy all this time." He cast a quick glance at the timer, which was down to 20 minutes, before turning back to the two rabbits, "We need to start over. Bloody hell, if Alan can't find those codebooks soon, we are history."

Meanwhile, at the far side of the mine, Alan and Bigwig stood at the foot of the stone steps that led up through the secret trapdoor into the wine cellar of Buxton Hall. Like the weapons locker down in the mine, they found the secret tunnel was also used as a hiding place for evidence of Red Hand's activities; stacks of cardboard boxes stood piled all around, filled with, what seemed to be, the belongings of Red Hand's former victims. Clothing, purses, briefcases, luggage, cell phones (including one that had belonged to Miles), wallets, cameras, laptops, data drives, various documents of identification, as well as newspapers with the news of those individuals' disappearances.

Alan quickly did a last check on his guns before turning to Bigwig, "All right, time for the hard part. Now, all we have to do is get to the safe in the drawing room; that's where the codebooks should be. We get them and then we get the hell out of there fast. If we run into any of those bastards on the way, we take them down on sight, but _quietly_, as not to alert the rest of the faction to our presence. Ready? Let's go!"

Alan pushed open the trapdoor above his head and they climbed up into the all-familiar wine cellar of the house. It was just like he remembered it from the future, minus the dusty cobwebs that would someday cover every inch of the house.

The two companions stood behind the wine cellar door listening; they could hear distant voices conversing somewhere in the house. Cautiously, Alan creaked the door open, aiming his gun through the crack, in case someone was standing outside. Their eyes peeled and their ears extended, they stepped out into the elegant hallway; this too was just like they had seen it in the future, minus the effects of decay and corrosion, which would eventually take their toll on the building. Now the place was sparkling clean, with fresh paint coating the walls and the crystal chandelier illuminating the domed hallway. Expensive carpeting covered the floor, state-of-the-art Chippendale furniture stood all around, as well as an elegant pinewood staircase leading to the upper floors of Sergey's ancestral home.

Nudging Alan on the shoulder, Bigwig gestured in the direction of the drawing room, where they had spent that fateful night with the escaped Efrafan does. Behind the closed doors, they could hear some sort of meeting going on. Listening carefully, the two friends recognised Sven's voice propose a toast, followed by the jingling of champagne glasses, "Gentlemen, a toast to the dawn of a new era; at midnight tonight, all world powers will fall and a new order will arise from the ashes; a Global Soviet that will last for millennia!" A sound of mild gulping was heard as the inner circle of Red Hand drank to their success.

Looking through the keyhole, Alan saw Sven surrounded by his men, as they hastily packed up their belongings, preparing to evacuate; in the background, through the window, he could see a large truck in the garden, waiting to transport them and their equipment to some new hideout, where they would wait out the devastation caused by Project Black Inferno, before proceeding to overthrow the crippled government and establish their new regime. Alan's eyes fell on the safe; it was open and the terrorists were taking out its contents; some things were being packed away for safe transport, while others were being burned in the fireplace, destroying anything that could be found and used against them. Several barrels of gasoline confirmed that they intended to destroy their old headquarters before moving out.

"All right lads, hurry it up! We're out of here in 15 minutes, and then we burn this place to the ground! Anything that can be traced back to us or jeopardize the operation, we get rid of, understood? And someone go and find out, what's taking that idiot Norris so long…" Alan saw his chance.

"This is our chance Bigwig; we have Sven and his cronies all together in that room. This is our opportunity to destroy them all with one blow," he said, taking out two grenades, one in each hand, and pulling the pins out, but holding the spoons tight to prevent detonation. In one swift move, he opened the door and tossed them both inside, amidst the unsuspecting terrorists. Two loud explosions in rapid succession followed, along with the screams of pain and the sound of shattering glass. Pulling out his gun, he kicked the door open, revealing a scene of total chaos and destruction.

Most of the glass windows had been shattered; scorched and broken furniture lay around the room, along with the bloodied bodies of a dozen terrorists that had been killed in the explosions. "Knock-knock…" Alan chanted coldly as he entered, Bigwig alongside, their eyes scanning the room for any survivors, "Room service!"

They strode through the midst of bloodied bodies, broken glass, and scorched debris. It had worked; all the Red Hand key figures were dead, along with their knowledge of the future. As Alan scanned the room for any signs of movement, one of the apparently dead terrorists suddenly sprang at him, brandishing a knife, about to strike. But Bigwig was faster; with a roar, he launched himself at the terrorist and sunk his jaws into the man's throat. The two fell to the ground and as Bigwig pulled away, his face bloodstained, Alan saw he had ripped out the man's jugular; the terrorist was chocking, clutching his mutilated throat, as he drowned in his own blood. Feeling a sense of mercy for the suffering man, Alan aimed his pistol and pulled the trigger, ending his misery.

Hurrying over to the safe, he found what they were looking for; the familiar dossier with the words 'TOP SECRET; PROJECT BLACK INFERNO', printed in red on the cover, lay on a shelf. "Yes, we got it!" he cried joyfully as he picked up the dossier. His joy instantly evaporated as he opened the cover, only to find all the documents missing.

"Son of a bitch! Damn it!" Alan cursed in rage, tossing away the useless, empty dossier. Suddenly, he heard Bigwig shouting, "Over there!"

Turning, he saw a bloodied Sven Shertok, the blueprints of Project Black Inferno tucked under his arm, bolt from the room and run down the spiral staircase and into the basement. Alan and Bigwig instantly gave chase, Alan firing madly in Sven's direction but without success. They paused at the top of the stairs.

"All right, we got him trapped; there is no other way out of that basement. You wait here; if anyone comes out besides me, kill him." Rushing down the stairs, he found himself in the familiar narrow corridor that led to the kitchens. As he entered the kitchen, a lumpy cook sprang at them from around a corner brandishing a butcher's cleaver, only to be mowed down by Alan's sub-machine gun. Stepping over the corpse, he hurried through another door at the end of the room, following Sven's trail. Little did he know that Sven was actually leading him into a trap…

Meanwhile, Samir was about to cut open Hawkbit's scalp and operate on his brain. Reaching down with the scalpel, he slowly started cutting open the comatose rabbit's temple. Warm blood trickled out of the wound as Samir peeled the skin apart, preparing to initiate the procedure that would reduce Hawkbit to a vegetable state. Before he could penetrate the skull however, suddenly a loud commotion was heard from upstairs, followed by rapid gunfire, catching him by surprise and he dropped the scalpel.

_Project Black Inferno launching already?_ he thought, consulting his watch, _No, it isn't due for another twenty minutes. Could it be a police invasion?_

At that moment, he heard someone running down the stairs, heading towards his workroom. Taking his mind off Hazel and Hawkbit, he drew a hunter's machete from its holster that hung on the wall and approached the door. He raised his weapon about to strike, when the intruder entered in a hurry, "Watch out, you fool! It's me!" Sven bellowed, ducking away from the machete.

"Boss? What's all that commotion upstairs? And what the bloody hell happened to you?" Samir asked, as he noticed Sven's bloodied and battered appearance.

"It's that damn son of a bitch Johnson!" Sven bellowed, "He's here!"

"_Johnson_? But you said he was dead!" Samir exclaimed, completely losing it. Sven lost his temper, "All right, I didn't _see_ him die! Listen, he is after the codebooks; we can't let him get them now or he'll ruin everything. I am going to take the service elevator back upstairs, destroy the documents, and make for the secret tunnel. You cover my back and finish him off as he comes this way." Samir nodded as Sven fled into the service elevator at the end of the room, escaping back upstairs, where he intended to destroy the documents and then make his escape through the secret tunnel, leaving Johnson at the mercy of Project Black Inferno.

Meanwhile, Alan was still pursuing Sven through the basement of Buxton Hall. Making his way down another corridor, breaking down any side doors as he went, but finding nothing. Then, at the end of the corridor, he spotted another door standing ajar with light coming from the room beyond. He smiled, _I got you this time Sven; there is no other way out of that room._ Putting aside his assault rifle and drawing his revolver for better aim in a potentially small space, he crossed to the door and with a violent kick, swung it open, "Caught you, you…!"

The sight beyond made the ex-marine sick: the room before him was, what appeared to be, a torture and death chamber. Boxes of dried human bones stood in corners, while the bookcase at the far end housed a grotesque display of shrunken heads, and bamboo frames with dried human skins hung on the walls like paintings. There was a vast collection of other mummified parts of dismembered human bodies lying around, including a severed stubby finger with a pearl ring lying in an ashtray on the desk, which Alan felt sure once belonged to Mrs Hanson. The chair behind the desk had a horrific-looking patchwork over it made from what appeared to be human scalps, and even the desk lamp was made out of a human skull with light bulbs fixed in the eye sockets. Many shelves lined the walls, filled with jars containing preserved eyeballs, tongues, ears, whole fingernails, and even human testicles, with labels bearing the names of the victims. But that was nothing compared to what Alan saw on the two operating tables with medical restraints, which stood in the centre of the room.

Lying strapped onto the bloodstained tables before him lay two familiar giant rabbits, looking horribly bruised and bloodied, indicating they had undergone heavy torture. Alan's breath nearly died in his throat as he recognised Hazel and Hawkbit, who he believed had been killed in the attack back at Nuthanger Farm. Before he could take a step closer however, he heard the door close and lock behind him. He spun round only to see a wild-looking man with the ugliest face he had ever seen, swing a machete the size of a butcher's cleaver at him.

"Say your prayers, little man!"

Alan ducked, narrowly avoiding being decapitated and was soon caught in a furious fight with Samir. The gorilla-like man struck with the wildness of a charging rhinoceros and Alan was barely dodging the violent blows of the gleaming blade that threatened to chop his head off. As he tried to aim his revolver at Samir, the machete struck, chopping off the muzzle. He ducked behind the desk and flipped it over onto its side, creating a temporarily barrier between himself and his attacker. The madman struck again, his razor-sharp weapon instantly chopping the desk in half. Kicking aside the wreckage, Samir closed in on Alan, snarling triumphantly as he raised his weapon to deliver the final blow. Alan, unarmed and cursing himself for leaving his rifle behind, backed away into the corner, bracing himself for a blow that would split him in half like a goose...

But before he could strike however, suddenly the dungeon door burst open and next second, Samir found himself thrown to the floor, with a furious Bigwig pinning him down by the throat, "Don't even think about it, chum!" he growled as Samir trembled with fear as he recognised a familiar face.

"How…I thought you were killed back at the farm! I…" he blurted out without thinking. In an instant, Bigwig's eyes had turned from green to red in anger, faster than a set of traffic lights, as he too recognised Samir as the henchman who had shot him back at the farm.

"Now, where I have seen you before?" he asked coldly, before he exploded, "ON YOUR FEET! NOW!"

With a squeal of fear, Samir was on his feet in an instant. Alan roughly grabbed him by the neck, twisting his right arm behind his back. Forcing him down on his knees, he secured his hands behind his back with some cord and then threw him face down on the floor, before turning his attention back to the operating tables.

"What in the name of Frith? By the Black Rabbit of Inle!" Bigwig gasped as he also spotted Hazel and Hawkbit, looking hardly a sight for sore eyes. His shock was instantly replaced by a new wave of fury as he rounded on Samir, "WHAT IN FRITH'S NAME DID YOU DO TO THEM, YOU BASTARD?" he bellowed, looking ready to tear the mad torturer apart. The man whimpered, as he braced himself for the explosion, "Lobotomy…"

"WHAT?" Alan bellowed, as he turned back to Hazel and Hawkbit. His felt his blood run cold with dread, as he noticed the gash on Hawkbit's scalp. "You _lobotomised them_?" Bigwig, although unfamiliar with the term, realised that Samir had done something terrible to his friends.

"What do you mean lobotomised them? What exactly has he done to them?" he asked sharply, staring at the curiously unresponsive bodies of his Chief and Owsla trooper, "Are they…dead?" he asked, feeling his insides coil up in anticipation of the explanation. Alan shook his head miserably.

"No, it's far worse than death. Lobotomising means cutting up your brain, so all your memories and sense of self are permanently lost. In essence, it reduces you to a mindless vegetable." Bigwig looked horrified.

"No, this can't have happened! You must be mistaken!" But Alan shook his head in regret as he pointed at the scalpel wound on Hawkbit's head. With a roar of rage, they both rounded on Samir; Alan grabbed him by the hair and, picking up the same scalpel Samir had used on Hawkbit, pressed it hard against the evil man's Adam's apple, as if about to dissect him like a laboratory frog, "You'll curse the day you were born for this, you bastard!"

"No wait! Please! They are just _sedated_! Their brains are still intact! I swear!" A tiny ray of hope blossomed inside Alan, as he slowly withdraw the scalpel, "You better be telling us the truth, for your sake, or you'll find your tongue presented to you on a platter! Now don't move!" he growled, punching Samir in the face.

Tossing the man aside, Alan rushed back to the tables and realised Samir wasn't lying; there was no scalpel wound on Hazel and the one on Hawkbit was too shallow to have penetrated the brain. Although unconscious and heavily battered, their vital signs seemed strong and normal, "They are all right Bigwig; just drugged."

Alan quickly started undoing the straps, freeing the two unconscious rabbits, while Bigwig licked their wounds clean. Unfortunately, in the distraction, they didn't notice Samir cut himself loose with a nail-clipper he had in his back pocket. Suddenly, the wild man, the machete back in his hand, was upon them again. Alan grabbed a meat hook and flung it in the path of the blade, narrowly blocking it. But the machete was too big and Samir had lighting-speed reactions, making it impossible for Alan to keep blocking his blows for much longer and Bigwig's strength was no match against that blade. But just as the madman launched himself at the duo, he tripped on something on the floor and fell over, just as Alan struck with the hook, aiming for Samir's chest…

But instead of skewering his opponent through the heart as he had intended, the twisted end of the hook penetrated the side of Samir's temple. Samir gave a yell of pain and crumpled to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Alan turned him over about to strike him again, only to discover Samir's insane, gleeful expression had turned vacant. His eyes were still open and he was breathing, but he didn't seem to recognise them. A quick glance at the wound told Alan what had happened; the hook had inflicted a deep cranial injury, as a result dooming Samir to a similar fate he had intended for Hazel and Hawkbit. He had been reduced to a vegetable state, with all memory and sense of self completely destroyed; he was worse than dead.

Staring at the floor, Alan saw it had been his housekeeper's finger that had saved their lives, when Samir had tripped on it. Discarding the hook, Alan turned back to Hazel and Hawkbit. Both rabbits were horribly bloodied and battered all over, yet hadn't suffered any life-threatening injuries. Then, he remembered Sven, whom he had completely forgotten about in the confusion. He turned to Bigwig, "Stay with them and keep an eye out for trouble; I am going after Sven. If I am not back soon, take them and get out of here." Bigwig nodded as Alan turned and hurried out the room, making his way back upstairs, hoping he wasn't too late.

Back in the launch bay, Hotdog, Fiver and Pipkin were still struggling with the satellite. After moving deeper into the control panel works, they had found a curious metal sphere, linked up to the main computer unit. Hotdog gently removed the cover, revealing two electrical points facing each other inside, like a pair of telegraph sparkers. A plastic clip on the end of an extendable rod was fixed in a position to slide between the points; they had found the heart of Derek's override system. "This is it!" Hotdog said, chuckling, "The system is designed to make these points touch and power the ignition; that clip is meant to spring forward and jam the ignition. If we can only reach that clip and slide it between the points, it should manually trigger the abort sequence."

Taking out a thin pair of tweezers, he carefully reached inside the sphere, trying to reach the clip and slide it into place. It wasn't easy; the clip projected from the far end of the sphere and Hotdog feared, if he brought the tweezers any closer, the metal would come in contact with the points and trigger the launch sequence instead. Sweating and shaking, he slowly managed to get a grip on the clip. Unfortunately, as he tried to pull it forward, he pulled too hard, causing the clip to become dislodged from its rod and fall to the bottom of the sphere, completely out of reach.

"Damn it!" Hotdog cursed as he withdraw the tweezers, "We lost the override. All right, we need to find else something else non-metallic to slide between those points. Something small and wooden maybe…" He started searching his toolkit and pockets for anything useful, but could only find metal tools and components, all vulnerable to electricity, completely useless. Suddenly Pipkin spoke up, "Hotdog, that smoking wooden stick in your mouth. Use that!"

Hotdog stared in confusion, until he realised Pipkin was referring to his pipe. He took it out, chuckling, "Some Chinese client of mine gave it to me during a smuggling job abroad; he said someday it could bring me luck. Guess he was right after all."

Securing the pipe to the end of a screwdriver with duct tape, he carefully squeezed it through the hole in the sphere, towards the points. It wasn't easy; the hole was small and the pipe was pretty bulgy, making it very difficult to get through the tiny hole. "Come on you ruddy little piece of crap! Get in there!" Hotdog hissed getting desperate, as he glanced at the timer, which read just over 5 minutes to launch…

Having temporarily given Alan the slip, Sven hurried back to the semi-demolished drawing room. Rushing over to the fireplace, he was about to toss the documents into the grate to burn them, only to see the fire had gone out, smothered from the ashes of all the other documents his men had burned earlier that evening.

He could hear shouting and then hurried footsteps approaching from downstairs, and realised, to his utmost dismay, Johnson had overpowered his last henchman and was now coming for him again. So he did the only thing that came to mind: Taking out the bundle of documents, he tore them lengthwise, then into quarters, until they were reduced to pieces no bigger than a tube ticket. Scattering the shredded bits of paper everywhere, to ensure no one would be able to piece the papers together at the last minute, he turned and fled.

No sooner had he reached the secret tunnel under the stairs and was lowering himself through the trapdoor, a shot sailed right over his shoulder, narrowly missing him; Johnson had caught up with him again, "Hold it right there, or I'll shoot!"

Pulling the hatch closed, blocking out another bullet in the process, he rushed down the tunnel towards the weapons locker, intent on salvaging as many weapons as he could before fleeing to his faction's secret fallout shelter in Overton. There he could safely wait out the passing of Project Black Inferno, while all major cities of the world's leading powers would fall before the night was over, along with Johnson and his furry friends…

Alan hurried back to the ground floor. Even from the stairs, he could hear Sven's furious panting and the sound of tearing paper, _Shit, he is destroying the codebooks!_ He broke into a run, heading for the study, intend on saving those crucial papers. He reached the hallway, just in time to see Sven make his escape through the secret tunnel. He furiously fired a couple of shots in the man's direction but missed; Sven had made it to the secret tunnel and fled. Turning his attention back to the study, he gasped in shock as he spotted a mess of shredded multi-coloured bits of paper lying scattered all over the carpet.

Taking his mind off Sven, Alan rushed into the study and started picking up the bits of paper; a quick glance at their writing told him he had found the codebooks. Shredded and in pieces but fortunately still legible…if he could piece them back together within the next five minutes.

Hurryingly gathering up all the pieces, he tossed them onto the coffee table and started piecing them back together using some transparent tape and blank sheets of paper, like a puzzle. Although badly torn-up, Sven hadn't succeeded in tearing the documents into too small pieces, in his anxiety to destroy them. But a quick glance at the grandfather clock sent a chill down Alan's spine, as he saw it was less than four minutes to midnight; four minutes to the launch of Project Black Inferno. He doubled his efforts. With only two minutes to spare, he was finally able to read the codes. He pulled out his walkie-talkie, "Hotdog! Hotdog, can you hear me?"

"_We hear you AJ. Where the hell have you been? We have been trying like hell to raise you!"_ came Hotdog's voice. Alan turned the volume up to maximum and spoke urgently, "Have you managed to diffuse it yet?"

"_We are working on it; we just need a few more minutes," _replied Hotdog and Alan shook his head, "Forget whatever it is you're doing! I found the codes! Tell me what you need, quickly!" He could hear a loud cheer from the other end, as Hotdog spoke again, _"We are looking for a blue document, section 47,8. What does the serial number say?" _Alan's eyes instantly fell on the blue document and saw a serial key printed in large digits under section 47.8, "775-009-867-200. I repeat, 775-908-867-200." There was a pause, as Hotdog typed the password into the missile's computer. _"All right, we are in business. Next password, Red 17.6; red document, section 17.6. Hurry up man, we only have one minute to launch! I can hear the fuel tanks starting to churn beneath our feet!"_

Alan turned to the red document, reading it faster that he had ever read in his life. "Section 16…section 17.6, got it! '412-007-571-911'. I repeat, '412-007-571-911!' Hotdog? Hotdog, did you hear me, over?" He could hear Hotdog's voice breaking up and by the sound of it, his friend was having the same trouble, _"Alan…can't hear…what code…repeat…over?"_

"What the bloody hell is going on?" He shook the walkie-talkie and saw a red warning light blink and slowly dim, "Oh my God, the battery…No!" Glancing at the clock, he saw it was less than thirty seconds to midnight. There was no way he'd be able to run all the way back to the launch bay in time with the code. His hands clutching his hair in agony, he desperately looked around the room for an intercom, or some other way to contact his friend. His eyes lit up as he noticed the television remote control lying on a chair.

Leaping forward, he seized it and removed its batteries. Then, picking up his walkie-talkie, he ripped open the cover and replaced the dead batteries. But just as the radio sprang back to life, the clock struck midnight; the launch hour of Project Black Inferno had arrived. Alan felt an his stomach bottom out…

Back in the launch bay, Hotdog was still struggling desperately to wedge his pipe into the ignition system to block it. Suddenly, he heard Alan's voice, calling him on the radio. Dropping the pipe, he picked up the walkie-talkie, "We hear you AJ. Where the hell have you been? We have been trying like hell to raise you!" He heard Alan's voice reply in an urgent tone, _"I found the codes! Tell me what you need, quickly!" _Hotdog gave a cry of triumph as he realised what Alan had just said. Abandoning his work, he turned to the missile's computer screen.

"We are looking for a blue document, section 47,8. What does the serial number say?" Hotdog said, reading the message on the screen. After a few seconds, he heard Alan reply, _"Type in 775-009-867-200. I repeat, 775-908-867-200."_ Hotdog hastily typed it on the keyboard and the message on the screen changed, 'OVERRIDE ON; RED 17.6 INPUT.' Below him, he could hear a minor vibration as the jet was on the verge of igniting.

"All right, we are in business. Next password, Red 17.6; red document, section 17.6. Hurry man, we only have one minute to launch! I can hear the fuel pumps starting to churn beneath our feet!" He waited and soon heard Alan's voice again, but was surprised to hear it slowly breaking up. His ears extended, he tried to make out the password but to no avail, "Alan, I can't hear you. What's that code again? Please repeat, over!" But Alan's voice completely died away and there was only static.

"What's wrong?" asked Pipkin as Hotdog tapped the walkie-talkie, "I think his battery is dead. He can't hear us! And we can't disarm this thing without that last code!" He turned back to the live missile and saw the timer read only 15 seconds to launch. The roaring vibration inside the jet reaction chamber intensified. Seeing they had nothing left to lose, Hotdog picked up his pipe again and taking a deep breath, he put all his strength against it, forcing it straight into the sphere. As he felt the wooden pipe forcibly wedge itself between the points, he heard a clicking noise and felt the points clamp down hard on the wood of the pipe, followed by a loud beeping. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the timer read zero and the dreaded words appear on the screen:

IGNITION SEQUENCE INITIATED

Hotdog screamed in terror and jumped backwards, as the three of them braced themselves for incineration. But, to his surprise, they weren't engulfed in a burst of red-hot jet fire as he had expected. The beeping on the missile's computer screen continued but the jet didn't fire; the pipe had been wedged right between the points, making it impossible for the current to travel through the circuit to the ignition system. Derek's ingeniously designed guidance system, having sensed a fault in the ignition, had initiated the override sequence, aborting the launch at the last second. A new reading on the computer screen confirmed that Project Black Inferno had been grounded for good:

ALERT!

IGNITION SYSTEM FAILURE;

LAUNCH SEQUENCE ABORTED

Meanwhile, Alan had just finished fitting the new batteries into his walkie-talkie and powered it back up. He knew it was already too late, but still hoped perhaps the clock in the study was a few seconds fast. "Hotdog, I am back! The password is 412-007-571-911. I repeat, 412-007-571-911. Can you hear me? Hotdog!" For a few seconds nobody answered and Alan thought he was too late. But, if that was the case, then why did the missile remain silent? Then, he suddenly heard Hotdog's laughing voice.

"_My apologies, Uncle Hotdog isn't here right now. He took off in a nuclear satellite five minutes ago! Please leave a message after the beep!"_ Alan laughed in relief as he sunk to the floor, feeling more relieved than he had ever felt in his life. The danger was over; Project Black Inferno had been stopped. Now all he had left to do was to dismantle it so it wouldn't exist to pose a threat in the future. He turned back to his radio.

"I do believe I owe you a case of the finest liquor in England. Also, I am inviting everybody for a pint of Irish cider to celebrate. Oh, and I almost forgot! Hotdog, is Fiver there? I have some good news for him."

"_Hallo Alan, can you hear me? Hotdog, do I just speak to this gadget?"_ came the seer's voice. Alan chuckled at his young friend's confusion of human technology. "Yes Fiver, I hear you loud and clear! Listen lad, Bigwig and I found Hazel and Hawkbit. They are still alive!" There was a second of silence and then Alan heard Fiver's cheer of joy as the news sunk in. As if on queue, Alan heard footsteps in the corridor outside and next second, Bigwig entered followed by Hazel and Hawkbit, who had regained consciousness, after the anaesthetic had finally worn off.

The Chief Rabbit of Watership Down was horribly bruised and battered but his eyes shone with life and sanity. Hawkbit looked slightly worse with the scalpel wound on his forehead, yet he too, was otherwise unharmed. They gathered around Alan, nuzzling him in silent fondness.

"I don't know how you did it chap, but I want you to know that what you did for me, did for _us_ tonight, is a favour we can't possibly repay. If it hadn't been for you, Hawkbit and I would now be worse than dead; that evil brute had made it clear what he intended to do to us. For what it's worth Alan, I thank you deeply."

"My pleasure Hazel. Fiver and Pipkin will be very happy to see you." Hazel smiled warmly, as Alan spoke into this walkie-talkie, "Hotdog, we are coming to you. I want you a keep a sharp lookout; that bastard Shertok has escaped and might be lurking around there somewhere. Hotdog, can you hear me?"

"_Yes, I hear you AJ. Listen, something is wrong here. The missile timer seems to have reset itself on a new countdown. This doesn't make sense; the launch system is completely jammed."_ Although Alan's first thought was that it was simply the satellite's computer having gone haywire because of whatever sabotage Hotdog had done to it, he still didn't like the sound of this new development one bit.

"All right listen, we are bringing the blueprints to you so you can check them out. Don't touch anything; it could still be dangerous. Just stay put and watch your backs!" He turned back to his companions, "We have to get back to the others fast. That guy Sven is still out there and Hotdog says the satellite might still be armed. Come on!"

They returned to the wine cellar, into the secret passage, making their way back to the launch bay. As they reached the door that led to the armoury, they found it bolted shut and an all-too-familiar voice coming from the other side; Sven was hiding inside, swearing and cursing, apparently having realised that Project Black Inferno had failed. The time had come to deal with him as well.

"This is our chance to get rid of him once and for all. That bastard knows too much to go free," Alan whispered to the others, who nodded in agreement. Sven's brutal treatment had earned their eternal hatred of the man, leaving no room for mercy. As Alan tried the door, he found it sealed tight; it was a secure fire door, intent on keeping the flames and smoke from the missile's jet from penetrating the locker, which was filled with munitions, so they could be retrieved later. Taking out one of his last two grenades, he wedged it into the handle and pulled the pin out. Quickly, they backed away and covered their faces.

The grenade detonated, causing the door to burst clean off its hinges and fell inward. They entered and saw Sven standing at the far end of the chamber behind a stack of cases, aiming an assault rifle at them, looking angrier than Alan had ever seen him before; all his sickening gleefulness was gone and replaced with an insane fury. Keeping his own gun firmly fixed on Sven, Alan gave him a cold glare, "It's over Sven and you lose!"

A chilling sneer appeared on Sven's face as he muttered in a not-so-convinced tone, "No Johnson, it's still far from over." But Alan held up the taped documents bearing the missile's codes, "It _is_ over." Sven's face contorted with fury, as he realised what Alan had done.

"Well, I've got to hand it to you Dr Johnson; you are one real stubborn pain in the neck, with more lives than a cat. Congratulations, you have done exceedingly well; Sergey and Robbins dead, Shelton arrested… Sven surprisingly enough, seemed to regain some of his swagger, as he glared at the professor and his rabbit friends.

"You are all very clever; but your efforts are for naught. Your interference will be the cause of around ten million deaths," he sneered, causing a chill to run down Alan's spine. What was Sven on about? Taking advantage of Alan's temporary distraction, Sven suddenly turned and bolted for the elevator behind him.

Regaining his composure, Alan furiously fired at Sven, but the bullets only bounced off the solid elevator door as Sven slammed it shut and took the elevator topside. Alan and the others listened as Sven's cackling voice echoed down the shaft, "Farewell Johnson! Enjoy the radioactive inferno, while I proceed to reshape the future at my own accord. My undying thanks to you and your talking pets!" They heard Sven's cruel laughter die away, as the man escaped into the night. Alan glanced back to his rabbit friends, "Come on, we need to get back to Hotdog and the others fast!"

Back in the launch bay, Hotdog stood puzzled by the missile's flight computer, trying to determine why the timer had reset itself on a new countdown after they had disabled the launcher. As he scratched his head, feeling baffled, he heard Fiver and Pipkin utter loud cries of joy as Alan, Bigwig, Hazel, and Hawkbit emerged from the duct.

Hazel rushed up the catwalk and met Fiver halfway up, as the two siblings tearfully touched noses, overjoyed at their reunion. Hotdog, Alan, Bigwig and Hawkbit also joined in, as the group of friends and brothers enjoyed a moment of pleasant reunion. It was short-lived however, as Alan handed Hotdog the taped-up diagram of the satellite.

"Oh crap…" the smuggler muttered, studying the diagram, "I was afraid of that; there is a backup unit installed, set to automatically take over should the primary system fail." Alan felt the blood drain from his face, realising Sven had not been trying to give them a scare.

"You're telling me this thing is still armed?" Hotdog nodded grimly, "There is a hidden stopwatch rigged to the system, which starts a new countdown should someone override the launch sequence, like we've just done. It is basically a bypass, for the computer to ignore the inactive altimeter and instead, activate the impulse gun according to a _chronometer_ setting."

"So that means the flight computer_ believes_ the satellite is airborne and will start firing impulses, the moment it is expected to reach orbit. Only now it will be firing from ground level instead…" Alan turned to stare at the timer on the computer screen, which was counting down from just over 11 minutes; the time the satellite would otherwise require to settle into low Earth orbit. Unfortunately, they weren't out of the woods yet, not by a long shot…

Author's note: Hazel, Hawkbit and Pipkin are saved! And the launch of Project Black Inferno has been stopped…or has it not? Alan is getting close to fulfilling his mission of correcting the future. Will he succeed and still survive or become a martyr? And most importantly, will he and his friends ever return home to the future? And what about Sven escaping with all the information on the future? Find out in the next chapter! In the original draft, Inspector Santon and his men showed up during the encounter and Sven was arrested. Enjoy and please review!


	41. Chapter 41 The Best Discovery Ever

Bruised and bloodied, Sven Shertok made his way through the grounds of Buxton Hall, heading towards the car park beside the main gates. He hurried over to the truck his men had been intending to use to make their escape with their arsenal, only to remember he didn't have the keys, which were back at the manor, probably in the pocket of one his dead henchmen, completely out of reach. His eyes lit up as he spotted Alan's battered jeep, which had been salvaged from Nuthanger Farm earlier that evening, standing on their pickup truck.

Pulling with all his might, he forced the bullet-drilled door open and climbed into the driver's seat. After a few unsuccessful attempts, the damaged engine, spluttering and hissing, finally started up. But just as he put it into gear, a stern voice rang out from the direction of the gates and he saw, to his outrage, a dozen armed Commandos spring from the bushes, surrounding him. "Hold it right there!"

Turning, he turned and saw Inspector Santon and Detective Coyle leading the squad, his colleague's expression cold and stony, "Commissioner Shertok, you are under arrest for murder, conspiracy to terrorism and high treason. Get out of the automobile with your hands above your head!" But Sven wasn't about to give up yet; pressing down hard on the accelerator, causing the RPM to fly off the scale, the battered jeep flew off the ramp of the pickup truck, mowing down several soldiers in its path, and sped off through the open gates and into the night. The remaining soldiers opened fire against the escaping jeep but missed.

"Get on the radio and alert all available reinforcements in the vicinity; I want that son of a bitch in handcuffs, dead or alive! Bomb squad leader, have your men sweep the property, and find that satellite! On the double! Coyle, with me!" shouted Santon. The soldiers fanned out as they secured the already abandoned safehouse, while Santon and Coyle got back into their car and went in pursuit of Sven. Little did they know that Project Black Inferno was armed and dangerous and about to go off at any second with them standing right in the middle of it…

Inside the warehouse, Alan, Hotdog, Hazel, Fiver, Pipkin, Hawkbit and Bigwig stared at the missile, feeling completely lost. After Hotdog had confirmed that there was a fail-safe bypass, which would activate the impulse gun, unleashing a radioactive holocaust on the whole of England, the seven friends had collapsed in silent defeat. They had failed; Project Black Inferno had been stopped from _launching_ but its lethal impulse gun still remained armed and dangerous, and would soon unleash a terrible catastrophe that would claim the lives of millions, including their own, since there was no way of getting clear of the electromagnetic pulse in time and absolutely nowhere to run…not them, nor anyone. Alan, refusing to give up _again_, now that they had come so close, was striding back and forth, scratching his head in frustration for a solution.

"The cores…" he said suddenly, as he remembered something very important; in the original timeline, Project Black Inferno had been scrapped because of the missing power cores. So if those nuclear cores formed the heart of the device then maybe if he removed them, it would… He turned to his companions.

"Listen up everyone, we're switching to Plan B: we are going to try and remove the cores from the satellite's power unit, so the impulse gun can't fire." Although the rabbits looked hopeful, Hotdog looked sceptical.

"That little scheme of yours is _theoretically_ possible, but there is still a great risk; a nuclear power cell can become unstable if manually disconnected. That was a common booby trap we encountered when diffusing unexploded Chinese warheads during the war. If we can't deactivate them within minutes of removing them from their housing, they might go into meltdown and self-destruct. If that comes to pass, it won't matter if we stop this thing or not, because we'll all be incinerated by a red-hot mushroom cloud instead!"

Alan cast a glance at the timer and saw it was only 6 minutes to firing, "We either take our chances or we all will be dead in another 5 minutes anyway. Who dares wins, or so they say. Come on, it's worth a shot!"

Climbing back inside the probe, Alan got to work undoing the seal that held the first nuclear core fixed in its tube; suddenly a loud wailing sound from the missile's alarm system was heard, as the seal creaked open. A burst of hot air hissed out of the broken seal, right into Alan's face, making his eyes sting painfully. Ignoring it, he stared inside the tube and saw the first of the three warheads they had dug up from Newtown churchyard earlier that night, fixed inside, like a large battery cell in a giant flashlight.

"Perfect, now we remove these one at a time. Hotdog, your job is to defuse them and get each of them clear of the missile after I remove them. Fire gloves on!" Working frantically, Alan grabbed hold of the handles fixed to the end of the core, struggling to extract it from its slot. It wasn't easy; despite the satellite's cooling system, which kept the core at a safe temperature, the devise had turned red-hot from the intense heat generated from the fusion rod. Even through his protective gloves, Alan could feel his hands slowly blistering as he struggled to extract the first core.

Suddenly, it loosened and popped out; a buzzing noise instantly followed, as an alarm warned them the core was overheating from being extracted from its coolant tank. Hotdog hoisted it out with a chain hoist and dragged it away, across the catwalk, to the far side of the warehouse, where he got to work, diffusing it using Robbins' key. Alan cast a quick glance at the missile computer screen and saw a warning appear in red letters:

SYSTEM MULFUNCTION:

CORE No1 FAILURE

AUTOMATIC ADJUSTMENT MODIFICATIONS CONFIRMED AND ACCEPTED

He smiled; their plan was working. His smile however faded however as he noticed the timer, which read just under 4 minutes to firing. He hastily got back to work, removing the next core. Soon, the second core was out; the computer alarm wailed again, this time giving them a most welcome sign, as the screen read:

SYSTEM ALERT;

POWER LEVELS BELOW OPERATING MINIMUM

IMPULSE GUN MALFUNCTION

The reduced energy production levels had dropped to the point where the electromagnetic pulse generated by the weapon would be drastically weakened, rendering it incapable of mass destruction. Alan smiled; they were getting close to shutting it down completely. His joy was short-lived however, when he tried to remove the last core. Whether it was his own anxiety or the seal having become corroded from the intense heat he didn't know, yet as he attempted to extract it, it stuck fast, making it impossible to remove it.

"Wonderful," he hissed, over his futile attempts to force the jammed seal open, "Only one step away from succeeding and our luck runs out again."

"So what do we do now?" asked Hazel, "Perhaps we have done enough damage to stop it as it is?" Alan shook his head.

"It is definitely _weakened_ a great deal, probably enough not to wipe out the country, but it still retains enough power to unleash a significant amount of destruction, including killing us. If it were only firing from _orbit_ in this condition, the Earth's electromagnetic field would probably safely deflect the microwaves back into space, like a solar flare. Hang on, that's it!" he said, as his own words suddenly gave him the ultimate solution to stop the threatening satellite and, at the same time, put it beyond human reach forever, so it couldn't pose a threat in the future.

He turned to stare at the ignition sphere, where Hotdog had wedged his pipe to jam the system; he could see the points inside, frequently attempting to connect, only to press harmlessly against the insulating wood of the pipe. If he removed the pipe and allowed the points to connect, the launch would resume and send the missile into orbit, where it could harmlessly unleash its weakened impulses, which would be harmlessly deflected by the Earth's electromagnetic field, without endangering any lives on the ground. Then it would probably drift off into deep space, never to be seen again. Turning back to the timer, he saw he only had two minutes left till the impulse gun went off. It was now or never.

"All right, listen up. We have a slight change in plans; we are going to let this thing launch and hope the Earth's magnetic field can now safely deflect the weakened impulses. It's a dangerous gamble; but it's the only card we have left to play." Hotdog frowned.

"And what about _us_? If you reset that system, it will launch without giving us enough time to get clear! This whole place will be instantly incinerated by jet fire! Where do we take cover until the danger has passed?" Alan realised Hotdog had a good point; since the launch bay had no safety barriers, the red-hot outlet from the firing rocket engines would spread instantly the second the launch resumed; just like Sven had intended from the start, the entire Buxton estate would be incinerated within seconds, destroying all evidence of Red Hand's work, and with them caught right in the middle of it. Unless…

"I think I know a safe place right here where we can wait it out. I want all of you into the secret passage and get to the freezer room in the kitchens. Bigwig, you lead the way. Go!" But nobody moved, "What about _you_ Alan?" they all gasped in shock, realising what Alan meant to do. Sure enough, the man turned to face them with a grim expression.

"I will have to stay behind and reset the launch sequence. But I want the rest of you out of here now! No arguments now!" he bellowed, noticing their hesitation, "I promise you I'll be all right. Just go!" Seeing they were fighting a lost battle and with no time left to spare, the group obeyed and headed for the duct. Alan turned back to Project Black Inferno, the timer now reading only 45 seconds to firing, "All right, you great big bastard; it's just you and me now!"

Climbing back into the probe, he turned to the ignition sphere and got a firm grip on Hotdog's pipe that was jamming the ignition circuit. Just as the points pulled apart, he pulled out the pip, letting the points touch; instantly, a new message appeared on the screen:

REBOOTING SYSTEM;

LAUNCH SEQUENCE RESUMED

The flight computer, sensing that the malfunction had been fixed, had automatically reset itself to its original mode. Without waiting to see what would happen next, he turned and climbed out as fast as he could, just before the hatch to the maintenance compartment sealed itself automatically, preparing for launch. Without daring to look back, he bolted, as fast as his legs could carry him, down the catwalk, and into the duct.

Just as he had made it halfway through the duct, the jet sprang to life, unleashing a massive ball of fire that swept the launch bay instantly. Taking out his last grenade from his belt, he pulled the pin out and tossed it behind him, just as he reached the mine entrance. The grenade exploded, causing a cave-in in the duct, temporarily blocking out the fire. But not for long; no sooner had he made it to the other side, than the flames burst through the blocked passage and into the chamber.

Seeing there was no time to reach the passage at the far end of the chamber, he grabbed hold of the chain hoist that hung over the shaft and lowered himself down the well where Woundwort had plummeted to his death in the future, the flames whooshing over his head, turning the chain red-hot.

Struggling to control his panic and focus on getting out of there alive, he got to his feet and bolted towards the generator room, with the flames following close behind. Hurrying through the weapons locker, he shut the steel door behind him, cutting off the path of the flames, which would have otherwise blown him and his companions into oblivion with all these munitions stored down there.

As he reached the stairs to the trapdoor, where the belongings of Red Hand's former victims were hidden, he paused for a moment and picked up Miles' discarded cell phone, thinking it may just come in handy. Then he leapt through the open trapdoor and into the wine cellar, to find his friends waiting for him. They could all hear the missile roaring in the distance; the jet fire was spreading swiftly across the garden, heading straight towards the house, and would soon engulf Buxton Hall in an inferno.

Running for their lives, they hurried downstairs to the kitchens, the thunderous roar of the firing rocket engines outside ringing in their ears. Chancing a quick glance out through a window, they saw the warehouse in the distance disintegrate as the missile soared up into the sky once again. The super-heated jet fire unleashed was headed straight towards the windows of the house like a pyroclastic cloud from an erupting volcano. Alan turned to his friends, "Everybody, into the freezer room! Hurry!" he shouted, pointing at the metal door that lead to the room where they had found Hyzenthlay and the other escaped Efrafan does in the future.

The group of seven leapt inside; just as the kitchen windows imploded from the blast, Alan slammed the freezer door shut, cutting them off from the swift-moving flames that instantly engulfed the kitchen along with the rest of the house. They all backed away into the far wall, as they watched the metal door turn red-hot but luckily withstood the heat wave, as the inferno engulfed Buxton Hall. Then suddenly all the lights went out and they were engulfed in complete darkness, yet were out of harm's way within their improvised fallout shelter of a freezer, as they sat waiting for rescue.

Meanwhile, Sven was speeding along the motorway with Santon's car in hot pursuit. Although Alan's jeep had suffered serious damage, the battered vehicle was still faring well…for now. But Sven knew the jeep couldn't make it much further in this condition; as he sped along, trying to shake off Santon's car, he could hear the damaged engine splattering dangerously and several warning lights illuminate on the dashboard. Smoke and steam begun hissing out from under the bonnet and falling across the windshield, rapidly reducing his visibility. As he struggled to see ahead, he saw a road barrier on a curve right ahead, with a deep ditch right beyond it…

He pressed down hard onto the brakes and turned the wheel to the left. But the brakes, damaged in the earlier attack, had no pressure left to slow him down and the vehicle was moving too fast for such a violent turn; the tyres skidded on the icy road and the jeep burst through the barrier, landing in a ditch below. Cursing in rage, Sven put the engine in reverse, trying to get back on the road, but the tyres only spinned uselessly in the mud. At that moment, he saw two headlights reflected in the overhead mirror; Santon's car had caught up with him. Deciding to take his chances and try to make a run for it on foot, he opened the glove compartment, searching for anything he could use as a weapon against his pursuers.

Tossing out the maps, music disks, and some other odds and ends that Alan kept in there, he spotted a strange looking package that seemed likely to contain something useful. Pulling it out, he ripped it open. His blood run cold when he saw its contents: several blocks of C4 attached to a detonator, with a timer counting down from just over three seconds. The bomb that one of his own men had planted there earlier that night, originally meant for Alan, had ironically found Sven instead…

On the ledge above, Santon and Coyle got out of their car, aiming their revolvers towards Alan's jeep. Santon shouted, "Get out of the car with your hands up Shertok, or we open fire!" They saw the door suddenly burst open, as if Sven was about to make a run for it, but he never did, for next second, the jeep exploded, knocking both Santon and Coyle off their feet. The two men got up and stared back at the jeep, which was now reduced to a pile of burning wreckage, "Guess we don't have to worry about this rat any longer, do we boss?" Coyle asked coldly, as they stared at the destroyed vehicle. Santon shook his head grimly, "As you sow, so shall ye reap…"

At that moment, a roaring sound was heard from the direction of Buxton Hall. Looking back, they saw, with a gasp of terror, the missile soar into the sky, delivering the satellite into orbit; Project Black Inferno was being launched, just as Dr Johnson had warned them it would. Santon paled.

"Oh my God! All those men inside…" he gasped, remembering the squadron he had left behind to secure the estate, which were now probably all dead, caught unawares in the jet fire. Coyle got onto the car's radio, "We need reinforcements at once!" he ordered, "Send the Fire Brigade, police, paramedics and the Bomb Squad. This is a Code Red! I repeat, we have a Code Red!"

Meanwhile, back inside the burning manor, Alan, Hotdog, Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, Pipkin and Hawkbit were sealed inside the freezer, waiting for the inferno outside to die down. After the lights had gone out, for a few minutes they had all lay huddled together in fear, while explosions and vibrations outside rocked the room, almost as if the whole building was about to come crashing down on them; but it hadn't. Reassured that they were safe, Alan and Hotdog had lit their flashlights, penetrating the darkness and allowing them to check on their companions. They were all battered, bruised, and exhausted from the hardships of tonight's escapade, but otherwise unharmed, "Everyone alright? Did we all make it?"

"Yes we did. But maybe not _all_ of us will walk out of here alive, if you lot don't get off my back this instant!" groaned Bigwig, as Alan and the others had accidentally landed on top of him when they had jumped into the freezer, pinning him to the floor. Hawkbit irritably scratched his ear.

"All accounted for. Can we finally be excused from our duties now?" he asked sarcastically, looking extremely relieved that their ordeal was over. Alan couldn't blame him; he and Hazel in particular had suffered the worst tonight in Samir's dungeon. _All_ of them had suffered for that matter but they had pulled through in the end.

Taking out Miles' cell phone, he powered it up and, in the brief moment, before its already diminished battery died completely, he managed to text Josie a message, _'At Buxton Hall; trapped in freezer. Send Inspector Santon.'_ Settling down, he turned to Hazel and Hawkbit, who were licking all their painful cuts and bruises, "Let's tend to the injuries first and then we can rest and wait for help. Remember, the air in here is all we have until the fire recedes, so remain calm and take shallow breaths."

Taking out the first aid from his backpack, Alan got to work treating the injured. A few minutes later, all injuries had been patched up; Hawkbit's scalp injury had been the worst and required stitches, making it necessary to gag him and for Hazel and Bigwig to hold him still while Alan applied some temporarily stitches without any painkiller. Soon, Hawkbit lay panting from the aftermath of the pain and muttering sarcastically about how Samir's torture methods paled in comparison to Alan's treatment.

With all injuries taken care of, the group settled down to rest, while helping themselves to the food stores that were in the room with them. The rabbits in particular, which hadn't eaten for nearly a whole day, were hungry as wolves and were soon devouring the cold vegetables in the baskets, while drinking from the melting ice that was trickling down from the freezer shelves.

As Alan sat enjoying a grand meal of sushi, pâté, fuagra, caviar, asparagus, liquor chocolate, champagne and other expensive delicacies from Sergey's kitchen, he kept thinking about their next step. Now that Project Black Inferno had been stopped for good, he had to start thinking about returning to the future. Although he had no way of knowing what the future would turn out now, after all their temptation with time, his hopes of bringing back those that had died were higher than ever.

Project Black Inferno was probably in orbit by now and out of human reach forever; although two of its three cores had remained on the ground, the key to start them up had also gone up with the missile, rendering the cores useless, even if Robbins found them this time round. But maybe there was a temporal paradox or something else he may have overlooked, which would result in the future remaining unchanged? Many uneasy thoughts went through his head until he finally drifted off to sleep, exhausted from his ordeal.

In the middle of the night, every town in Hampshire were suddenly awakened by the roaring sound of a launching missile soaring into the sky. Panic-stricken people rushed out into the streets, heading for the emergency assembly points. Local army squadrons ushered panicked mobs to the old bomb shelters leftover from the war, while radio and television stations went wild with an urgent announcement: "Missile strike in the UK!" The Ministry of Defence was instantly put on alert, while local law enforcement struggled to control the chaos.

Military personnel, fire fighters, police, and paramedics were dispatched to the Buxton Estate, which was now completely engulfed in an inferno. Soon the battle had started; firemen circled the estate with their hoses, fighting to control the fire. After what seemed like forever, the flames began to die down, revealing a scene of total destruction: The entire Buxton Estate had been burned to the ground; the manor still stood, but had been incinerated inside-out. The warehouse and launch bay had been completely annihilated, with nothing left other than some scattered debris and the empty launch tube in the ground. All the surrounding countryside within a radius of two miles had been lost to the flames, including with many houses on the outskirts of Overton and Laverstoke. Luckily there were no fatalities, aside from Santon's squadron, which had all been killed in the blast, as well as the entire Red Hand faction, which had seemingly been annihilated by their own weapon.

After the fire was extinguished, the men approached the burnt-out ruins of the property, looking for survivors. The only survivor they could find was Samir, who resembled undercooked beef in addition to his untreatable brain trauma. He was rushed to the hospital and put on life support, but soon succumbed to his injuries and died. As for evidence as to what had happened, there was little to be found, as all of Red Hand's files had been lost to the flames, along with all the faction members that had been present at the Hall that evening.

After recovering several charred corpses from the ruins, all burned beyond recognition, it was concluded that there was nothing more to be found. The police then set out to track down outside associates of Red Hand, using every scrap of information they could find, including the evidence collected by Santon. The two remaining cores were recovered intact from the ruins of the launch bay and delivered into the custody of the Bureau Secret Service for safekeeping.

Despite the police's insistence that Alan had perished in the inferno and his remains would soon be identified among the bodies recovered, Santon had insisted on a personal search. After the place was declared safe and the Bomb Squad and Fire Brigade had pulled out, Santon, Coyle, and Josie, who had arrived shortly after the launch, were granted access to the property. The group searched the ruined Hall from top to bottom, looking for any sign of Alan and his friends. At first they found nothing, except smoking debris and several more dead bodies. Just as they about to give up, Josie had checked her cell phone and found Alan's message. Their hopes restored, Santon had immediately stirred them in the direction of the kitchens, to renew the search.

Santon, Coyle and Josie approached the scorched freezer door and, with some effort, managed to force it open. Shining their flashlights inside, they saw that the room had remained untouched by the fire. And lying on the floor, which was wet with melted ice, fast asleep, were five familiar giant rabbits and a man with jet-black hair. At the far end was also another dark-skinned man with long hair, who had been helping himself to the drinks refrigerator, judging from the many empty beer cans that littered the floor.

Hearing their footsteps, he turned and spotted Santon and his companions, "Greetings Inspector…hic. You have arrived…hic…just in time…hic…to join me…hic…for a toast; courtesy…hic…of the late…hic…Mr Buxton!" Hotdog said sheepishly, having filled himself up to his ears with alcohol in celebration, while they had been waiting for rescue. The others chuckled, overjoyed to find that the seven unsung heroes that had saved the world from destruction were alive and well.

Several hours later, Alan yawned and slowly opened his eyes, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings. He was lying on a bed, inside a bedroom that looked vaguely familiar… His body felt sore and he could feel several dressings covering his wounds. Then he remembered; he was back in Josie McEwen's home in Newtown. Flashbacks of last night with their rescue from the freezer resurfaced in his mind; he could vaguely remember Inspector Santon showing up with Josie, only he had been so exhausted, he had to be carried out, supported by Santon and Coyle, and placed into Josie's van, before blacking out again. Suddenly, worrying thoughts hit him like lightning. Where were Hazel and the others? Had they been caught and taken into custody for questioning? Perhaps some government agency was now inquiring about the future? Feeling alarmed, he got up and rushed out of the room. Entering the kitchen, he found Josie and Santon sitting at the table drinking coffee, apparently expecting him.

"Hallo Alan. About time you are awake; you've been asleep all day," Josie said pleasantly, giggling at the fact that Alan was standing there wearing only his underpants and t-shirt. Santon nodded in greeting, "Good afternoon Dr Johnson. I suggest you get dressed; we have much to discuss. Don't worry…" he added as he saw Alan about to start asking questions, "your rabbit friends are safe; we left them on Watership Down on the way here."

"I have left you some clean clothes on the chair beside the bed," Josie said, taking a third coffee mug from the cupboard for Alan, "James wore the same size as you; they should fit you fine." Hurryingly returning to the bedroom, he dressed into a pair of blue jeans and a flannel shirt that once belonged to Major McEwen. Hurrying back to the kitchen, he joined Josie and the Inspector, who wasted no time in updating him on the outcome of last night's events.

"As you know, the satellite was launched and settled into orbit; however, with only one core left, the weakened electromagnetic pulses of the impulse cannon were deflected by the Earth's magnetosphere, so there is no danger. As for Red Hand, all faction members that were at Buxton Hall last night perished and their headquarters was destroyed; everything was lost to the flames. However, we have been able to identify and arrest several outside, minor associates, including Tom Shelton. All charges against you have been dropped and your name has been cleared, although now you are once again, presumed dead. I would also like to offer my personal apologies for all the trouble I put you through yesterday."

"That's good news," Alan replied, sipping his coffee, feeling his luck had finally taken a turn for the better, "And no hard feelings about the arrest; you were just doing your job. What about my friends? I presume the Press is on a feeding frenzy by now, about the giant talking rabbits of the future?" But Santon shook his head with a reassuring smile.

"On the contrary, nobody knows about them, other that me, you, your friend Mr Boone, my assistant Coyle and Mrs McEwen…oh, and Dr Drake of course. He was taken to hospital but the doctors say he's making a full recovery. Since all the Red Hand faction members who saw your friends are dead, it leaves just the six of us with the knowledge of the future."

"What about Shertok? He escaped last night and knows everything about the future. Unless he is stopped, he could ruin everything…" But Santon remained unconcerned, "You needn't worry about that traitor any longer," he said calmly, "We ambushed him on the way out and he tried to escape using your jeep. However, it seems someone had planted an explosive devise in your car to get you, only it backfired on Mr Shertok; he is dead." Alan rolled his eyes at the irony, "Even better, saves us the trouble."

"Well," Santon said with a frown, "I better be blunt; Coyle and I saw your jeep explode, but we failed to recover his body; we think it was vaporised in the explosion. Still, we can't be certain, without some remains to prove it." Alan felt uneasy at the news; Sven's role in the future had been bad enough in the original timeline. Now, with all the information he had gained from interrogating Hazel and Hawkbit, he had the power to ruin everything. Unless he was captured and locked away, their mission could end up futile.

"And professor…" Santon continued, as he stared at Alan with a more serious expression, causing the man to frown; perhaps he still wanted to arrest him for some reason or was something else wrong? "There is something else you should know: We raided the homes of all the terrorists you named, including Mr Robbins', and made an unbelievable discovery. If you'll join me for a ride back to London, to St Thomas', I'll show you." Alan felt confused.

"I don't understand; if Drake is all right, then who else would I want to see in hospital? What if I am recognised?" But, on the Inspector's insistence that he had to see it with his own eyes to understand, half an hour later, Alan and Santon were on their way back to London, leaving Josie and Hotdog to look after Hazel and the others, until they could make arrangements for their return journey home.

Not to far away from the McEwen residence, on Watership Down, a group of giant rabbits were striding around the place that was their home in another era. After Santon, Josie and Coyle had found them last night, they had taken them back to Josie's infirmary for treatment. After everyone had been declared healthy, Santon had dropped them off on the Down, which was deserted and isolated, with instructions to lie low until they could make arrangements to get them back to the future, intent on keeping them out of sight from prying eyes. Although uneasy at being separated from their friend in an unknown world, they had agreed to stay put until Alan returned.

Bigwig had wasted no time in ordering a scrape being dug in the midst of a patch of wood, where they could find some shelter and also avoid being spotted in the open. Hawkbit was in a foul mood at being ordered to do doe's work again, but was instantly on his forepaws digging after Bigwig threatened him with lobotomy. Although not half as good as the Honeycomb, the hole was big enough to accommodate five rabbits cramped together under the trees, keeping them dry and safe from any prying eyes.

Although the Down was deserted at this time of year, Santon feared that some passer-by might spot them due to the large physique, so had warned them to stay out of sight as much as possible and keep clear of any villages. Bigwig had taken that warning at heart and forbade anyone from venturing any further than the fence at the foot of the Down. They sat waiting for Alan to return with plans to get them safely back to their home time.

Alan followed the inspector into St Thomas' Hospital where he had discovered Sergey's corpse last night. It seemed so very long ago; in the past 24 hours, he had undertaken and fulfilled the most critical mission in the nation's history, yet he had no way of knowing if he had actually succeeded in his _true_ objectives or not. And now he was being taken on a sick visit to someone 'he would be most overjoyed to see again', according to Santon.

During the ride to London, the Inspector had explained that, although the press had gotten wind about his 'return from the dead' and his heroic role in stopping Red Hand, the public remained completely unaware of his journey into the future and of Hazel's band. In addition, from the Inspector's own carefully rehearsed testimony, it had been reported that Derek, Julio, Major McEwen and his crew had all been murdered by Robbins and other Red Hand assassins and that Alan had perished in the inferno when the satellite had been launched, so that he would now be remembered as a hero rather than a murderer. On Alan's part, it couldn't have been any better; if the world believed him dead, then he was free to return to his new life in the future. He had explained to Santon about his decision to return to the future to stay, in hopes of restarting civilisation and the inspector had agreed to help him out, under the condition that he and Coyle would get seats among the few selected.

They approached the reception desk and Santon rung the bell, summoning over the strict-faced receptionist that Alan had inquired to about Sergey the other night, "Good afternoon. Can I help you?"

"We are here to see the Drakes and young Miss Clark," replied Santon in a stern tone that matched that of the receptionist's, who instantly seemed to recognise the inspector's authority, "The Drakes are in ward 713 and Miss Clark is in paediatric ward 687." Alan felt more perplexed than ever,

"Miss Clark? Who is she? And why is it the Drakes as in _plural_? I thought Cole said his family were…" But Santon only smiled as they took the elevator to the 13th floor, to Drake's ward.

On the bed where Sergey's corpse had been the night before lay a live and breathing Dr Cole Drake. Alan's colleague was sitting up in bed, a thick bandage around his waist, visible through his unbuttoned nightshirt. Despite his injury and all the weight he had lost while in hiding, the scientist was recovering quickly and nicely. Alan noticed he had his laptop on the meal table in front of him along with all his research notes, buried in work. Hearing his visitors enter, he turned to greet them.

"Afternoon Inspector, Alan," he said, raising his hand in greeting, "The surgeon said I should be out of here in a few days; just in time to attend my father's funeral," he added grimly, "I thought I'd use, what would otherwise have been a complete waste of time, to make a start on Project Utopia; the project of the future ecosystem." He showed Alan an experimental DNA model on the screen, where he was inserting each molecule like a puzzle. But when he hit the execute key to run a simulation test, the molecular structure disintegrated, indicating a scenario failure.

"Damn, what am I missing here? It must be an error in the sequencing of the gene that codes for the lysine molecule on the chain of amino acids…" He cleared the chart to start over, but Alan shook his head "Actually, I think it's because you've wrongly labelled Cytosine as P. The four DNA nucleotides are A-G-T-C." Drake frowned and corrected the error, "Thanks Alan. Damn, I've always made that silly mistake since high school; it just won't get out of my head."

After they had briefed Drake of everything that had happened last night, Alan proceeded to the pending matter: his return to the future.

"We have successfully stopped Project Black Inferno and also preserved the secrecy about the future. However, if we are to allow the timeline to proceed the way we want it to, Hazel and his band will have to leave here as soon as possible and I must go with them to ensure humanity will have a future in the new world. Josie, Hotdog, Santon and Coyle have agreed to join us, so we are going to need a bigger plane to take all ten of us. We will also need a large sum of money to finance this expedition. That is where we are stuck; my bank account is already well overdrawn since I spent a year unemployed and wasting all my savings on booze and tobacco… Derek would have wanted me to use his money for this, but I don't know if we have enough time to name me executive of his estate so I can access his savings…"

"That is no problem," interrupted Drake, taking out his chequebook, "Since my father died without a will and I am his only surviving blood relative, all his fortune is legally mine now; not just the Buxton Estate but an enormous business enterprise along with an enormous sum of dirty money. I am prepared and more than willing to finance the entire expedition, as compensation to the hell my father put you through. Not to mention, my wife and son and I are forever in your dept…"

"Wait a minute," interrupted Alan, "Did you just say, your _wife and son_? I thought you said your family were…"

"Dead?" asked a female voice from behind. Alan turned and saw they weren't Drake's only visitors; seated in a couple of chairs beside the dresser were a woman, whom Alan had met a couple of times at work, when he and Drake had been colleagues at the university. It was none other than Simmone Drake, Cole's wife, who was a professor of languages and linguistics. Standing beside her was a well-built boy of around twenty, whom Alan had also met on several occasions; it was young David Drake, Cole's son, whom had been Derek's star student at the university. Alan felt his breath die in his throat, as he stared back at Drake's family, whom Drake himself had told Alan, had been abducted and killed by Sergey, as a punishment for his supposed disloyalty.

"Hallo Dr Johnson; it's been a while sir," David Drake said beaming, shaking Alan's hand, snapping him out of his trance of surprise, "My condolences for Dr Shaw; he was my favourite professor." Alan turned back to Drake Sr exclaiming, "I thought you said they were killed!"

"It appears, for once I misjudged my father," Drake explained, "Cruel and ruthless as he was, it appears he still had qualms of murdering his own flesh and blood; for once he had been telling the truth when he told me they were alive in his custody. Inspector Santon and his men found them locked away in a dungeon at Robbins' home in Luton. But more of that later. Now then," he said, holding his gold pen over the chequebook, "I can write all kinds of numbers on this cheque. Don't you play cheap on me; the rest of my father's money will all be invested for Project Utopia, a far better purpose than what they were originally intended for I am sure. Tell me, how much will it take?"

"Approximately £250,000 give or take a thousand," Alan replied sheepishly, feeling slightly guilty at having to ask Drake for money (even if it was his father's dirty blood money) and then being forced to leave him behind to die, to protect the future. Although it was unlikely that Drake would suffer the horrible fate of dying at the clutches of Hemlock this time round, Alan still didn't want to risk warning him; he had come too far to risk jeopardizing the existence of Hazel's people, should Drake decide to abandon the project. Still, he owed to at least give his colleague a chance, but how?

Drake signed a cheque for £500,000, double the amount necessary, and handed it to Alan, "All the money to finance your expedition is here, plus some extra in case you have to go over budget. I suggest you start making preparations at once; I heard it on the news this morning that the Aurora is starting to recede and be gone within the next 48 hours. If you're going to attempt a return journey, it must be soon." Alan paled; if the time warp closed before they could return to the future, then Hazel and his friends would never see their home again.

"Then work must start immediately. Next stop will be the bank and then…" he fell silent, as he suddenly remembered it was Sunday and all the banks in London were closed. "First thing tomorrow morning, I will cash the cheque and purchase all the equipment and supplies. The full list will be prepared tonight and I will fax it to everyone by midnight. Inspector, I need you to drop me off…" But Santon held him back as he turned to hurry out.

"Wait, you still haven't seen what I _really_ brought you here for. I should caution you; this may come as quite a shock to you, so brace yourself." Alan looked at his colleague and his family for an explanation to Santon's peculiar behaviour, but they only smiled back at him, "Go and see for yourself Alan."

After saying his goodbyes to the Drakes, they headed down to paediatric, to see this 'Miss Clark' that Santon had been telling him all about. Alan was beginning to feel utterly overwhelmed at been taken to visit an apparently complete stranger with no explanation as to why. Just as they reached the door to Ward 687, Alan grabbed the inspector's sleeve, "All right, what exactly is going on here? _Who_ is in there?" But the inspector shook his head, "I am sorry professor; it is not my place to tell you. You must go in and see for yourself before I can explain any further…"

"Explain any further? About bloody well _what_?" he snapped, starting to have doubts about the man beside him. Could this be a trap? But Santon, losing patience at Alan's stubbornness, pushed him through the door, "Just go in and find out!"

Entering, he saw a child's bed at the far end, with its occupant lying upright against some pillows. At the sound of Alan's footsteps, she turned and stared in his direction, uttering a squeal of joy as she recognised him, "Daddy, is that _you_?"

Alan gasped, his heart about to fail in shock, as he recognised the young girl on the bed: long black hair with a trace of red in them, and hazel eyes, identical to his… His breath nearly died in his throat, as he stared at non other than his _daughter Lucy_, whom he had seen murdered along with his wife at Nuthanger Farm over a year ago! Yet, there she was right in front of him, very much alive, if not a bit grown in age and height. Lucy Johnson had been alive all this time!

Author's note: Surprised eh? Nobody saw that coming! Next chapter, the mystery behind Lucy's survival will be revealed and plans for the return to the future will be made. If you look back to chapter 1 carefully, you'll notice in the flashback, that Alan only saw _one_ body dropped from the jeep by Robbins. Oh, and Sven's fate will finally be confirmed. All reviews are welcome! Enjoy and please, R&R, so I can update faster! Until next time then!


	42. Chapter 42 When One Journey Ends

Alan stood frozen in disbelief, staring open-mouthed at his daughter. After everything he had encountered in the past week, anyone would think that Alan Johnson could no longer be surprised by anything. But what he was seeing now, was enough to make him lose his sanity; since that fateful day of March 14th 2011, Alan believed his wife and daughter to be dead and buried. But now, on January 6th 2013, nearly two years after the tragedy that had changed his life forever, he was standing face to face with his daughter who, rather than being dead, was instead very much alive if not a bit grown.

"L…Lucy?" Alan muttered, lost for words. There was a moment of silence, before he tore across the room and embraced his daughter in a bone-crushing hug. The girl giggled as her father held her close, "Daddy! Can't breathe!" Alan loosened his grip but didn't let go of her, "How did you…I thought you were…" he chocked on his tears of joy, finally realising that his daughter was indeed still alive. Santon, who had followed him in, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "I told you professor, you had to see it with your own eyes to understand." Alan turned to look at the inspector, while still holding his daughter's hand in his own, "Where did you find her?"

"Last night, when we raided Mr Robbins' home," Santon explained, "We found her held prisoner there along with the Drakes, under the care of the house staff. Under questioning, they confessed that their master had smuggled the girl home with him the day your wife was killed and ordered that her existence to be kept secret, including from all his Red Hand associates. We also detained the morgue director who signed the death certificates of your family; he confessed to have been bribed by Robbins to forge a certificate with her name on it. Oddly enough, it has also been confirmed that Robbins had given specific instructions to his staff that she be treated with good care, almost as if he wanted the girl to sort of…feel at home, rather than like a prisoner. It doesn't figure."

Alan couldn't believe his ears. Santon had a point; finding his daughter alive because _Robbins_ had ordered for her to be hidden and cared for, was completely unbelievable. Russell Robbins, a man who had proven again and again to have a great passion for causing pain and misery for others for his own gain, had ordered the protection of his intended victim's daughter and had even lied to the people who had _paid_ him to kill her and her family? After everything he had seen Robbins do, Alan was convinced that his nemesis was nothing more than a ruthless killer, filled with greed and hatred. So why could a cruel brute like him want to protect a member of a family he was hired to _assassinate_? Surely not out of compassion, given how he had ruthlessly killed so many other innocents that had stood in his way! And it couldn't have been a hostage ploy to get to Alan, or he would have made demands long ago.

"You said she was treated with _dignity_?" he asked the inspector, "She wasn't…subjected to torture or any abuse of any sort?" he asked, feeling worried of any mental or physical trauma his daughter could have suffered while in the hands of Robbins, remembering what Hazel and Hawkbit had gone through in Samir's dungeon. But the inspector only shook his head in reassurance.

"No, on the contrary, the doctor confirmed that she has suffered no physical injuries and doesn't seem to have sustained any mental trauma either, aside from some unpleasant memories. There is no sign of her being starved, beaten, kept in solitary confinement, or abused in any way you would expect from those brutes; she was able to tell us about her captivity without much effort. They say she's fine and can return home this evening."

Although at a loss about the explanation behind Robbins' peculiar motives, Alan didn't care at the moment. Fate had given him the best gift he could ever hope for: he had gotten his daughter back, with the help of the Watership Down rabbits. Like guardian angels, they had stepped into his life and helped him heal his shattered soul, by joining him on this long perilous adventure that would eventually lead him to reclaiming his life. Although his wife was dead and the pain of her loss would always remain, Alan now truly felt again what Derek had called 'the Alan he once knew', that night on Baker Street. Now, it was his duty to make sure that Hazel and his band reclaimed their own lives.

It was late evening when Santon's car pulled up in front of Alan's apartment in Drayton Court. Alan has spent the whole afternoon keeping his daughter company, as father and daughter caught up on everything that had happened to them while they had been apart. Lucy, being a fan of the story just like her father, had been thrilled as Alan told her his story of meeting Hazel and his band and all their adventures together. When she launched into the story of her captivity, Alan was relieved to hear that his daughter had only suffered to the minimum possible extent in comparison to him; she was only separated from her home and parents yet had received a generous hospitality, while he had endured depression, physical and mental torture, hardships and fatigue during their time apart.

According to her, after Alan and Derek left her and her mother to wait for them in the jeep, they had heard gunfire coming from the farmhouse and her mother had attempted to start up the jeep and go get help. Before she could start up however, 'a tall masked figure' had appeared on the scene. That figure, which Alan knew had been Robbins, had sprayed something into Lucy's face, causing her to black out. When she came too, she found herself tied up in an unfamiliar room. Robbins had appeared and introduced himself, to welcome her to her 'new home'.

At first Lucy had had been terrified but had soon calmed down, after she realised her captor meant her no harm. Some time later, she was freed from her binds and allowed full reign of the house, but was never allowed to go outside. She had attempted to escape many times, but all the windows were shatterproof, the doors had an electronic locking system and even the phones needed a security code to get a dial tone.

Surprisingly enough, Robbins had always been reasonably gentle with her and given her many gifts, but had strictly forbidden her to ever talk about her parents in his presence, especially Alan. Among the many things she had been given to pass the time, was the Special Collector's Edition of _Watership Down_, which had become a close companion to hers as she sat waiting, hoping to return home some day. On occasion, Robbins would hold meetings with some 'strange visitors', which Alan knew had been other Red Hand faction members, during which time he'd keep her locked up and out of sight, sometimes strapped to a bed and gagged, to ensure her silence.

A few days ago, Robbins had left on a 'business trip', leaving her in the care of his housemaid. Then, just last night there had been a sudden police invasion on the property and, after 20 long months, she was finally freed from her captivity. After she had told Santon her name, she was brought to hospital along with the Drakes, with the promise that she'd be reunited with her father again very soon.

After the doctor had declared Lucy healthy and fit to return home, the inspector had offered them a ride back to Drayton Court, to make sure they arrived safely. After handing Alan a large cardboard box, which Hotdog had instructed be passed on to him, Santon bed them goodnight, promising to return in the morning with news on their flight arrangements. Then he departed to join Coyle back at headquarters, so they could start the process of cleaning up all evidence of Hazel and his band, before making arrangements for their own departure.

For the first time in nearly two years, Alan walked up to the porch of his home, not as a drunken recluse, but as a happy father accompanied by his eight-year old daughter. In spite of his newfound happiness of having his daughter back however, the absence of his wife as well as Mrs Hanson, who had been a close friend of his family for years, created a sore lump in his stomach, as he remembered that they were both dead and never coming back.

The apartment was still a mess from the Red Hand invasion. Although it didn't really matter, as they would be leaving tomorrow anyway, possibly never to return, Alan had no intention of leaving his family home looking a disgrace. So Alan and Lucy got to work, cleaning up the house; two hours later, the rooms were just as tidy and organised as before, with the exception of several ornaments, glasses, and dishes that had been smashed beyond repair and binned. After ordering in some dinner (the fridge was empty), they sat down in the living room, enjoying the first evening together in nearly two years.

As they ate, Alan took some time to go through that box Santon had given him. Inside, he found some of his prized possessions, as well as those of Derek's, which the Red Hand mercenaries had stolen when vandalising his home in search of Miles' disk. There was Mary' jewellery, the family china and silverware, and Alan's diamond tiepins. Finally, there was a note in Hotdog's untidy handwriting:

'_AJ,_

_Some Red Hand swab tried to sell me your things and I stole them back for safekeeping. The Hard Boys ride again!_

_Hotdog'_

Alan felt slightly embarrassed at the note, remembering how he had accused Hotdog of robbing him, while his old friend had in fact saved his possessions from the thieves. He put the rest of the stuff aside, intent on sorting them out later, as he continued telling Lucy about the Watership Down rabbits and how they would soon be going to live with them.

Although ecstatic at the prospect of actually going to _live_ with the characters of her favourite story, it didn't take her long to realise that her mother was strangely absent. So far Alan had deliberately avoided discussing that with Lucy, not wanting to break her heart, after her difficult ordeal of being held prisoner by Robbins had finally ended. Still, it was impossible to avoid it forever, so he gently turned to face his daughter with the hard truth.

"Lucy, I am afraid Mum can't be with us anymore. She has gone to a far and beautiful place to join Grandpa, Grandma, Uncle Royce, and Uncle Miles. It does no good to dwell on the past Lucy; Mum is still with us in spirit and will always be, if we continue living happily. Surely, you're not going to let her down now, are you?" he asked, smiling, as his daughter smiled back, yet Alan could detect the hurt and loss in her eyes.

Some time later, after he had tucked Lucy in to bed, Alan retreated to his office, writing out the list of everything they'd need for their journey. Although he hoped to find more equipment waiting at the HAB if it existed this time round, nonetheless, he had to make preparations for a no-return journey. Carefully thinking up the absolute essentials, he made a list of all the medical supplies, tools, clothing, food, equipment, weapons and ammunition they'd need. By midnight, the list had been carefully laid out. After he had faxed copies to Josie, Santon and Hotdog, he started noting down the addresses of local shops from where he could purchase everything the following morning. Then came the question of weight allowance

Their most vital resource of all, records of knowledge, would be impossible to transport on a small aircraft, since books were heavy and the vast library required would mean hundreds of pounds worth of cargo. A backpack full of light paperback books was fine, but it wouldn't be enough to guarantee complete independence from the luxuries of civilisation, let alone it's entire reconstruction! Alan soon saw the obvious solution to the problem.

Searching through the cabinets of his office, he soon found what he needed: a portable data drive with a capacity of two terabytes, which Derek had given him for his last birthday, but had never gotten round to using it. Although, if HAL existed in this new future, he'd probably find more advanced material in his database, he didn't want to take any chances; knowledge was their most important resource and their survival would depend on it.

Wiring up the drive to his repaired computer, he got to work, created a new partition, formatted it, and checked it for faults. After ensuring that it was fully operational, he started browsing online, through the best pirate web pages he knew, selecting all the books, films, music, pictures, manuals, atlases, and other free digital records of knowledge, the infinite realm of the Internet had to offer.

An hour later, he had 1,000 active torrents downloading data onto the drive. Slowly, a long list of e-books appeared on the screen, as he sorted them in labelled folders: Adamson, Burns, Crichton, Dumas, Einstein, Fleming, Grahame, Homer, Irving, Joyce, King, Lloyd, Milne, Newton, O'Brien, Plato, DeQuincy, Rowling, Shakespeare, Tolkien, Uccellini, Verne, Wells, Xenophon, York, Zahn, among other authors, stored themselves in alphabetical order onto the magnetic drive, forming a vast electronic library.

Finished with works of literature, Alan turned his attention to the encyclopaedias he'd need. Searching, he found the latest version of _Britannica_, as well as several other multipurpose encyclopaedias, followed by a large variety of miscellaneous books on history, zoology, geology, palaeontology, biology, physics, agriculture, botany, astronomy, farming, architecture, engineering, mathematics, linguistics, oceanography, philosophy, archaeology, psychology, medicine, physiology and other fields of science. Next, he started downloading the best manuals he could find on survival, first aid, martial arts and any other useful skills he could think of. Also, he didn't forget to add copies of the holy writings of all known religions, including the Old and New Testament, the Koran, the Apocrypha, the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Book of Mormon and even the Egyptian Book of the Dead.

Next, he turned his attention to languages. Although it was highly unlikely that they'd ever need any other language other than Lapine and English, he didn't want all of the world's languages to die out, so he started downloading all the vocabulary and grammar dictionaries he could find on Arabic, Bulgarian, Chinese, Danish, English, French, Greek, Hebrew, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Lithuanian, Mongolian, Norwegian, Ossetian, Polish, Quechua, Russian, Spanish, Turkish, Ukrainian, Vietnamese, Welsh, Xhosa, Yiddish, Zulu among other languages, as well as several dead languages, including Latin, Icelandic Runes and Egyptian hieroglyphics. Finally, he included an amateurish electronic translator for Lapine called _Metrahessi 2.00_, with the ability to translate simple English into Lapine and wise versa, both vocabulary-wise and grammar-wise.

Finished with written knowledge, he turned his attention to art. He got to work, downloading a vast collection of feature films, television series, documentaries, silent films, cartoons and even included his own personal collection of video clips from YouTube. Next, he added all the music soundtracks and he knew, from Jelly Roll-Morton's jazz to Elton John's rock, along with a vast collection of plays.

Next, he added a collection of high-definition images of all major works of art, as well as a vast collection of photographs taken from the world's finest photographic achieves, which would serve as remainders of his doomed civilisation. Finally, he didn't forget to add a world atlas along with street maps of every major city, hoping to use them for future exploration. To top it off, he added his vast collection of fanfiction works he had collected over the years.

As he sat waiting for the data to finish downloading, he busied himself by noting down his memoirs of his original journey into the future in his _Watership Down_ copy, intent on using that information upon their return to the future to determine how their temptation with time had changed things. Carefully underlining any key events in the text, which he had seen occurring in the future, he noted down every difference or new event he had witnessed, in diary form. Using the blank pages at the beginning and the end of the book, he also noted down the names of all the rabbits he had met and grouped them according to their warren and status, a brief history of the Four Brothers, and even the names of his human companions and the people that were destined to influence the future. Finally, he marked the locations of Sandleford, the Cessna crash site, Cowslip's warren, the Honeycomb, the HAB, Buxton Hall and Efrafa and even the course of their journey on the enclosed map at the back of the book. After he had finished noting down every scrap of information he could remember, he packed the book away.

By the time the drive was down to its last megabyte of free space, he had an electronic archive consisting of 75,000 books, 11,000 films and soundtracks, 10,000 photographs, and 3,000 other miscellaneous files. Although it was only equivalent to roughly 5% of all human knowledge, it should suffice to make a start. Finalising the drive, he placed it in a waterproof zip case; this in turn was placed in an armoured aluminium box filled with upholstery foam, making it shockproof, as well as fitted with a non-magnetic lining, which would shield the vulnerable electronic data from the magnetic interference caused by the time warp, among other hazards.

By that time it was nearly 2:00am and he felt exhausted. Leaving the computer to continue downloading the last of the requested data, he made for his bedroom to get some shuteye. As he passed his daughter's room, he noticed the light was on inside. Quietly opening the door, he saw Lucy turning about in bed, having a nightmare. Hurrying up to her, he gently shook her awake, "It's alright princess. I am here; everything is fine."

After a while, Lucy had calmed down but still looked very sad, "I had a dream…about Mum," she said softly, on the verge of tears. Alan sat down on the bed and stroked her hair to comfort her. He sighed, feeling a sore lump in his heart; how was he going to help her confront her own demons? He had hoped that maybe the loss of her mother hadn't traumatised her badly and she could get over it soon, but now it seemed the tragedy had left its scars on her as well, just like with him.

As she rested her feet on his lap, Alan suddenly remembered an effective way to cheer her up, help her take her mind off her tormenting memories. Looking at her with a mischievous smile he said, "I know just the remedy to help you get back your old laugh, squirt."

Lucy stared blankly for a second, before she realised what her father meant to do to her. With a squeal, she jumped and tried to run away, but Alan was too fast for her. As she flung herself across the bed, he grabbed hold of her ankle and hoisted her in the air upside-down, so her fingertips barely touched the floor. "Daddy," she said in a rather annoyed tone, yet with a faint smile on her face, as he dangled her around, "Put me down!"

"And why should I do that?" asked Alan in a teasing tone, as he continued to dangle his daughter by her ankle, lifting her as high as he could reach, so she was a good couple of feet in the air, "I really missed your laughter you know!"

Since she was a toddler, Alan had regularly given his daughter dangling rides, amused by her amazement when the floor would seem to drop a mile away beneath her. Now, despite having grown several inches, he found he could still lift her clean off the floor, if not with a little more effort, due to her greater weight. Although still enjoying the experience of hanging upside-down, a game she had craved for as far back as she could remember, Lucy now crossed her arms and stared at her father, apparently not in the mood for fun.

"How am I suppose to laugh for you, when you've got me by the foot?" she asked in a rather casual tone, as if bored, "My toes don't laugh you know!" she said, wriggling the big toe of her trapped foot in what looked like a 'no' gesture in her father's face. She pulled a face at him and hang there in silence, as if waiting to be put down. Alan raised an eyebrow; he knew his daughter well and realised what she really wanted. It looked like he would have to change tactics.

"Perhaps…" he said chuckling; he was in a playful mood that he hadn't been in a long time, all drowsiness forgotten. "However," he continued with an evil grin, "_this _can make you laugh, long before I am through with you!" In an instant, Lucy was struggling like mad to pull free, as she realised the predicament she was in for now.

"No Daddy! Not that…!" she pleaded, as Alan lazily reached out and pealed off her sock, exposing the soft sole of her overturned foot, from where he held her. He chuckled as he watched her trapped sole wrinkle up, her toes twitching with nervousness, as she desperately braced herself for the inevitable. He slowly brought his outstretched fingers towards her foot, causing Lucy to squeak, as she realised she was now the captive of the tickle monster and her unbearably ticklish feet were completely at his mercy.

"No, no, no, no, no!" she screeched as she felt her father's finger caress her arch, her worst spot. "No, no, no!…Okay, I'll laugh!" she squealed anxiously, and starting making ha-ha sounds, pathetically false imitations of her usual giggling self that her father so much adored. Alan watched amused, as his daughter kept blurting out every excuse she could think of, trying to talk her father out of tickling her senseless, yet her expression told him she actually wanted all the tickling she could get. He pretended to give in, as he withdraw his hand, watching her ease up, thinking she was out of the loop. He waited till he had the full element of surprise…

Suddenly he attacked her foot, his fingers dancing on the tender sole. Lucy, completely unprepared, exploded in fits of hysteric laughter, thrashing madly about in a desperate effort to escape, as he tickled every inch of her tiny foot, which wriggled like mad in his grip. She struggled, trying to kick at her father's hand with her free foot, to loosen his grip, but to no avail. Compared to her younger years, when her kicking would always go unnoticed by her well-built father, now at eight years old, she could kick quite hard, making it rather uncomfortable for Alan.

Grabbing her other foot in a firm grip too, to keep her safely immobilised so she wouldn't accidentally hurt herself, he started tickling both her bare feet simultaneously. Lucy squealed even louder, trying to reach up and shield her feet with her hands, but couldn't reach while in that position. Finally realising there was no escape, she stopped struggling and just hang helplessly from her father's grip, lost in fits of laughter. Between pauses to give her time to catch her breath, Alan could hear her squalling pleas, over her guffaws of laughter, "Daddy, no! It tickles! Stop, I mean it, stop!"

Seeing her nearly out of breath, he relented; Lucy relaxed, still dangling like a monkey, yet now had an angel-like smile on her face, her unhappiness over the thoughts of her dead mother completely forgotten, "That…that was fun, Daddy! Can you do it again? Please?"

I don't know Squirt," Alan said, putting her down again and sitting beside her, "We have to get to bed; it's going to be a long day tomorrow. And you've got a kick like a horse…"

"Please?" she pleaded, putting her feet on his lap and wriggling her toes at him, as if inviting another tickle attack. He smiled, remembering how she would always plead for more, up to the point of being tickled senseless. As he remembered, it always was the most effective remedy to cheer her up whenever she was upset, like now.

"You said it…Ticklish Princess!" he said mischievously, suddenly grabbing the edge of the blanket and rolling it up, with her wrapped inside it. Lucy soon found herself in a new predicament; rolled up in her blanket like a spring roll, completely immobilised, with only her head and feet poking out from either ends.

"Daddy, I…I can't move!" she said, realising she could do nothing other than wriggle her head and feet a little, yet fascinated by this new restraining method her father had improvised to keep her from hurting him, as well as herself, during the next tickle session.

Overjoyed to see she was finally returning to her old happy self again, he took a seat at the foot of the bed, where her feet, trapped in the embrace of the blanket, stuck out. Not to keen on the idea of driving her to hysterics when she was trapped like this, he decided to go easy this time. Holding her toes together with one hand and tilting them back, to keep her from scrunching her feet, he started softly caressing her soft soles rather than digging in. This reduced her previous squeals to soft giggling, as she playfully instructed him to tickle her in different sensitive spots each time, definitely enjoying it.

Satisfied to see her happy again, he kept it up, watching her smiling face as he continued playing with her feet, finding each ticklish spot and trying it out, each time with a new fit of giggling. He continued tickling her feet for several minutes using a feather and one of her paintbrushes, before she finally asked for a break. Alan, always faithful to his daughter's wishes, relented and sat admiring the best thing life had ever given him, aside from the Watership Down rabbits, waiting for her to ask him to for another go or to set her free. Still trapped in the blanket, Lucy looked up at her father.

"Daddy," she said, her giggling voice suddenly turning more serious, "Why did that bad guy Robbins say you were not my Daddy?" Alan, who was busy giving her feet soft caresses, to make her giggle, froze in surprise. _Robbins had been telling his daughter he was not her father?_ Although it sounded most likely the psychopath had simply been trying to poison her against her father out of sheer malice, Alan didn't want his daughter to dwell on such memories…not now, not ever again.

"Never you mind, sweetheart," he said, caressing his daughter's cheek, "He was just a mean, bad buy who isn't worth your time…"

"But how do you know you _are_ my Daddy?" she persisted, her childish curiosity overpowering. Alan swore in the back of his mind; sometimes, he wished his daughter wouldn't be so curious. Still, not wanting to hurt her feelings by forbidding her to talk about it, he tried to think of something to appease her.

"Well, because…because you are my Little Ticklish Princess, whom I adore and like to tickle senseless!" she said, returning to their game, in hopes of driving Robbins out of his daughter's mind. This time, he resumed tickling her trapped feet full force, causing her to erupt in new gales of laughter, the blanket restraining her from kicking or thrashing about. Finally, she told him she had had enough.

"Daddy, I am getting hot," she said, panting, slightly sweating from the tickling, as well as from the blanket wrapped around her body, "Can you free the Tickle Princess?

"Your knight in shining armour!" Alan said playfully, gently grabbing hold of her ankles and pulling his daughter out through the bottom end of her entrapment. Giving her another brief dangling session, he put her back down but still didn't release his grip on her yet.

"No so fast Squirt; time for a little bonus round!" he said, grinning. "No Daddy, please no more tickling!" Lucy squalled, yet Alan could tell from the laughter in her eyes, she was actually eager for another go.

Laying her down on his lap and holding her wrists with one hand, he lifted her arms over her head, exposing her upper body's sensitive spots. He then started tickling her all over, from her armpits to her bellybutton. Lucy was once again driven to hysterics with laughter, as she wriggled around, struggling to escape her father's fingers. Alan continued tickling her all over, enjoying the sound of her laughter that he had missed so much in the past year.

Finally, having had her fill of tickling, she gave him a true plea to stop, so Alan ceased his attack on her and tucked her back into bed. "Get some sleep sweetheart. We have a long day tomorrow; we are moving away, to join Hazel's warren in the future," he said, handing her a stuffed replica of Kanga, which had been her favourite bed companion for years.

After Lucy had fallen asleep again, Alan retreated to bed, only pausing for a moment to look at his daughter from the doorway, satisfied to see her smiling face as she slept peacefully. Returning to the master bedroom, he fell asleep almost instantly, this time without any of his old nightmares returning to torment him as they had done for the past year.

Meanwhile, back in Newbury, Tom Shelton sat in his small holding cell staring blankly at the locked door from where his escort had left him an hour ago. After his minor frostbite had been treated, a police officer had arrived to take him into custody. He had been brought over to the local police station in Newbury until they could transport him to a more secure holding facility in London the following morning, pending his trial.

His untouched dinner sitting on the floor at his feet, Shelton sat miserably on his cot, contemplating his grim fate. It was all over for him; the police had already informed him that they had more than enough evidence to prove his guilt, and he had no money to pay for a lawyer to defend him in court. Shortly after his arrival, he had also heard the news of the fall of the Red Hand Brotherhood. That bastard Johnson had somehow accomplished the impossible and would now be praised as a hero in death…while he would rot in prison. But it wasn't so much the fact that he was facing life in prison that bothered Shelton so much; it was the fact that Red Hand did not take kindly to failure and he had goofed it up big. Even if a few faction members remained at large, he would definitely be targeted by Red Hand's assassination network for his failure and even the police wouldn't be able to protect him forever.

Suddenly, he heard a key turn in the lock; the door creaked open, revealing a man in a black woollen mask and leather gloves, brandishing a silent revolver. Shelton paled, backing away against the wall in silent terror; even through the slit in the mask, he could recognise the insane eyes of his visitor, "Y…you?"

"You have failed me Shelton," replied his visitor in cold fury, "And to add to the insult of your capture, you sold us all out to the enemy! Because of your blabbering, the Red Hand Brotherhood is ruined; everything we've worked for has been lost. Well, I cannot let that go unpunished. Don't bother to scream," he added nastily, "all the officers stationed in this building are already dead, along with the other scum that let themselves get caught. You might as well start saying whatever prayers you know, traitor; you will lose that ability in precisely one minute from now." But Shelton, snapping in fear, suddenly sprang at his attacker bellowing, "No, I will not die like a dog!"

He tried to tackle the assassin, attempting to wrestle the gun out of his hands; only he found himself in the path of a bullet, directly in the crotch. He sunk to the floor, howling in pain as his attacker towered above him, aiming his gun. Before he could utter any plead for mercy, a second bullet hit him in the abdomen; he doubled over with pain, dark blood from his liver, leaking out of the gaping wound. His attacker just stood there unconcerned, lazily firing bullet after bullet in slow intervals, enjoying Shelton's suffering. Another bullet struck his wrist, followed by another in the lung, another in the collarbone, and finally, one directly between the eyes.

The last thought that went through Shelton's mind before his brains were blown out, ending his pain forever, was what he would have given right now, never to have joined the Red Hand Brotherhood.

The following morning, Alan was awakened by a loud knock on the front door. Hastily putting on a pair of pants over his nightshirt, he rushed to the door and found Santon, looking dishevelled and in a state of shock; it was obvious that there was some bad news. He also didn't fail to notice that his deputy Neil Coyle, who was supposed to arrive with him, was strangely absent.

"Inspector, what the hell is up? You look as if you've just looked into the face of death! Here, have a seat and I'll get you some coffee." After the inspector had calmed down a bit, he explained.

"There was a massacre at Newbury Police Station last night," he said, "Tom Shelton is dead along with all the other Red Hand faction members we apprehended yesterday. Apparently, someone is trying to cover his tracks by silencing any witnesses that could testify against him in court. The judge who issued the arrest warrants has also been murdered along with Robbins' house staff, and my deputy Neil Coyle; an assassin went after the Drakes at the hospital and Coyle was killed fighting him. I was also ambushed as I left my home this morning and barely escaped with my life. There is only one likely candidate who could be behind all this…" Alan was thinking along the same lines as he nodded grimly.

"Yes, it's Sven Shertok. That resilient bastard must still be alive. Do you think he knows about me and Lucy or our plans for the future?"

"I can't tell for certain. Since it was only me and Coyle who knew about you having survived Project Black Inferno, he probably doesn't know about you being alive _yet_, but he's bound find out soon or later; any spy could spot you on the street. The Drakes are also definitely in danger of being murdered; their testimony in court would be crucial in putting any major conspirators behind bars, something that Sven would die to get rid of. The more I think about it, the more I feel my job isn't finished here; with Coyle dead, I am the only one left who knows the importance of Drake's safety. I am afraid the nightmare it is still far from over…"

With sick realisation, Alan realised Santon was right; a vengeful Sven Shertok on the loose could be far worse than a mere thorn in their side. Even if the whole world believed _him_ dead, Drake and his family were still in grave danger. And if something happened to Drake, then there would be no future world to return to.

"And it gets worse," Santon continued, "Drake informed me the time warp is receding faster than we thought. It will be gone by tomorrow afternoon at the latest." Alan frowned at the news; their newfound luck didn't seem to be holding out after all.

"Have you arranged transport yet, according to my specifications?" The Inspector nodded, "Yes, I had to use all my…_questionable_ contacts last night to unanimously charter us a decommissioned Twin Otter floatplane Skytruck; good thing Drake had all the money we needed for silence, otherwise I would now be answering to my superiors for forging a lease. But I couldn't find us a pilot…" But Alan looked pleased; a Twin Otter floatplane was big enough to transport ten passengers and make a safe landing on water as well as on land; a far better candidate than the Cessna, which needed a runway for takeoff and landing, something extremely hard to find in the wildness of the future world.

"A pilot is no problem; Hotdog is fully qualified to pilot a twin-engine aircraft and I am an amateur pilot myself, so I'll be the co-pilot." He glanced at the clock and saw it was nearly ten o'clock, "All right, let's not waste precious time. I am going out to purchase our equipment. Got a gun?" The inspector pulled out his Desert Eagle revolver and loaded it.

"Splendid. I want you to stay here and keep an eye on Lucy; don't let her out of your sight for one minute, understood? Remember, I trust you to keep her safe for a few hours. And if Sven or some other uninvited guest shows his face around here, kill him on sight." The Inspector nodded fearlessly, "I swear on my life!"

Alan walked into his daughter's room, "Lucy, wake up sweetheart." Lucy only groaned in her sleep; she was never a morning person. Smiling, Alan gently grabbed her foot from under the blanket and tickled her awake.

"Morning Daddy," she giggled, curling up into a ball, her hands clutching the soles of her feet, thinking she was about to be tickled senseless again, "Is the tickle monster visiting again?"

"No Squirt, not now. Listen sweetie, I need you to get dressed and join Inspector Santon in the living room. I am going out to do some shopping and I want you to keep him company until I come back. In the meantime, I want you to start packing your suitcase. You remember how Mum taught you how to pack? Good. Only one suitcase mind you, and with the bare essentials _only_. Quickly now!" he said, tickling her in the ribs to get her out of bed faster.

After his daughter had dressed, Alan took Drake's cheque, his shopping list and revolver, and hurried out, leaving Lucy with Santon. Rushing to the nearest bank, he cashed the cheque and then, with a bag full of cash (his credit card could attract attention if used), he was ready to go shopping. Realising he'd need a new vehicle to transport all that stuff back to Drayton Court, he took the tube to Derek's home first.

After packing up some of Derek's clothes, books, notes, toolkit, as well as some of his old friend's most prized possessions, Alan made for the garage, where he found his friend's Toyota waiting. Although he feared that Derek would probably turn up dead, he felt an obligation to bring some of his friend's belongings along, should they find him alive in the future, in which case he'd need them.

He set off, going from store to store throughout London, purchasing everything they would need to set up home in the future. Following his list, he purchased all the necessary clothing, medical supplies, wilderness equipment, scientific and fieldwork kits, freeze-dried food rations, technology and everything else that would need to explore and colonise the wild future Earth. He had some trouble finding weapons and ammunition, which unfortunately required special permits, something he couldn't obtain in time. Although a great disadvantage, he would just have to settle with what little he had.

Several hours later, after having spent nearly £400,000, his most expensive shopping day ever, and with Derek's car filled to bursting, Alan finally ticked off the last item on his list. The remainder of the money he took back to the bank and paid off all his bills he had amassed from his time in solitude, intent on keeping the tax department from laying their grubby paws on his family home and possessions after he had left. By lunchtime, the last of the money was gone.

He returned to Drayton Court to find that Santon and Lucy had waited without incident. With Santon's help, he started packing anything else he needed from his apartment; his wardrobe, including some of his wife's clothes, which Lucy would need as she grew older, his research notes, his remaining weapons and ammunition, his fieldwork kit, his family albums and even added a few printed books from his library: his copy of _Watership Down _and_ Tales from Watership Down_, an SAS Survival Guide, a Whitaker's Almanac, a Concise Encyclopaedia, a Collins World Atlas, and a Bible. Finally, he added a self-printed book with a picture of a teenager surrounded by the Watership Down rabbits and the title_ Watership Down The Cross Bearer_ printed on the cover.

In addition to his everyday clothes included in his luggage, Alan had purchased all the necessary clothing suitable for a wild environment and all extreme conditions, including polyester and cotton trousers, shirts, jackets, woollen sweaters, raincoats, waterproof boots and shoes, gloves, hats and plenty of other long-lasting outdoor attire. Their food rations consisted of ready-made, freeze-dried meals of meat, dairy products, vegetables, fruit, sweet snacks and even a small amount of alcohol, enough to sustain six people for 6 months.

Their equipment included a photography kit, which consisted of several water-resistant Cannon cameras and Nikon video recorders, complete with multiple lenses and flashes. There was also a fishing kit, as well as state-of-the-art trekking, diving and mountaineering gear. Their weapons arsenal consisted of his father's buffalo shotgun, his revolver, a powerful crossbow he used to train with as a child, and all his army knives. He also included several highly detailed explosives and weapons manufacture manuals, intent on creating more weapons on site, once his original arsenal was used up. Unfortunately, his ammunition was extremely low, having used up most of it while on the run, but it would suffice.

Their toolkit consisted of a large toolbox divided into multiple sections, containing tools and components for carpentry, metallurgy, mechanics, architecture, and farming. Their kitchen consisted of six sets of aluminium plates, mugs, cutlery, a pot, frying pan, kettle, and a portable gas stove. Their science kit consisted of a microscope, beakers, test tubes, supports, eyedroppers, tweezers, spoons, scalpels, a gas burner, a Ph measurer, and an assortment of different chemicals, according to Alan's specifications. Their instruments included an aneroid barometer, a Celsius/Fahrenheit thermometer, an astronomical telescope and a powerful laptop computer in a waterproof case, for reading the e-library. Finally, Alan included a portable solar recharger and transformer unit, which could fold up like a blanket and carried around in a box, complete with a large collection of high-capacity recharchable batteries for all the equipment.

Their medical kit consisted of sterilising alcohol, penicillin, iodine, ammonia, glycerine, aspirin, Paracetamol, morphine, Phenobarbital, talc, plasma, cough syrup, burn ointment, bandages, compressors, stitches, syringes, splints, ice packs, IV tubing, a thermometer, stethoscope, a defibrillator, sterile gloves, as well as other sedatives, disinfectants, antibiotics and anti-fungal creams that were likely to be needed in the wild environment of the future. He also included a snakebite kit and several insect repellents.

In addition, he didn't forget to stock up on the disposables including paper, ink, pens, pencils, markers, erasers, clips, duct tape, string, flares, matches, plastic wrappers, soap, candles, fuel bottles and a box of spare parts for all the equipment. Finally, he included a professional survival kit including flints, flashlights, glow sticks, hatchets, Swiss Army knives, first aid pouches and flasks, enough to be split between every member of his group.

Their sleeping arsenal consisted of six sleeping bags, blankets, inflatable pillows and mattresses, towels, a hygiene kit, complete with toothbrushes, combs, razors, scissors, sponges and brushes. For a temporary habitat, he included two large camping tents: one would serve as their shelter and the other for their equipment.

To top it off, he even added a collection of seeds he had purchased from Kew Gardens: vegetables, fruit trees, herbs, flowers, and other kinds of useful vegetation from different regions around the world, which he intended to try and plant in the future, to grow his own crops. Although he had seen plenty of wild game and edible vegetation in the future world, he felt it was important that they brought some samples of their old biosphere along. Santon had also offered to bring along his inflatable motorboat, which would have its uses in the wild environment that would soon be their home.

Using several hiking rucksacks and army travelling bags he had purchased, as well as several suitcases, Alan, Santon, and Lucy started packing up the equipment. By the time everything was packed and loaded, Derek's car resembled a moving van, filled to bursting; the minimum essentials for humanity to start anew.

After everything was in order, Santon left to return home for his own packing, promising to meet them at Hotdog's inn that evening. After he had gone, Alan sat at his desk to write a last minute letter to Drake with detailed instructions and any further information he had on the future. In addition, he included his last will and testament with Drake's letter, naming his colleague sole executive of his estate. By 5pm, both father and daughter were ready to leave their London home for good.

As they walked out the front door, Alan turned to look at his home for one last time, staring at the familiar living room he had known all these years. The apartment was tidy and clean once again, but was about to become a deserted ghost house. Slowly turning round, he shut the front door and the room was engulfed in silent darkness. Alan and Lucy descended the steps to the car and departed Drayton Court for the final time, heading for the village of Whitchurch, where they would rendezvous with the rest of their fellow colonists, before embarking on their journey to a new world and a new life.

Before leaving London for the last time, Alan made one final stop at Highgate Cemetery, where his wife, brother, and parents were buried. Pulling over outside the graveyard, Alan and Lucy made their way towards the Johnson family plot. Alan stared at the granite headstones marking the final resting place of all the people he had lost in life.

He bent down at the foot of the grave and placed some roses under Mary's name, whispering, "Rest in peace my love; our little girl is alive and well. How I wish you could you be with us too, to share the new life I have found for us together. Goodbye Mary." He turned and stared at the other three headstones beside his wife's, "Goodbye Mum, Dad and Royce."

Gently taking off his wedding ring, he placed it at the foot of Mary's headstone, before turning to leave with Lucy, without bothering to pick it up or even look back. Like Derek had told him that night on Baker Street, it was time to stop dwelling on the past and move on.

Author's note: The crucial part of the journey has arrived; their return to the future and their hope of having undone the horrible catastrophe they left behind. By the way, the mystery with Lucy and Robbins will be explained later. In the next chapter, the WD rabbits get to meet Lucy and some more Hawkbit trouble. And Shertok will make his final appearance. Will he live and keep the future the same, or will he die and the future will come out perfect? Enjoy and please review!


	43. Chapter 43 Another Begins!

Meanwhile, back on Watership Down, a band of restless giant rabbits were passing around the Down, searching for any grass to nibble at in the snow. Although Josie had promised to return that afternoon with food, a whole day and night out in the cold without food or shelter, seemed like a full Inle to them, as they restlessly strode back and forth, feeling sick with worry. What was taking Alan so long?

Perhaps Santon had betrayed them and arrested Alan when he was alone, without them around to protect him? When Hawkbit had suggested such the possibility, instant worry had broken out among the group; Bigwig in particular, kept threatening to claw Santon's eyes out if he betrayed them. Although the man had helped them, not to mention having saved his life, Bigwig still didn't trust him.

Fiver and Hazel sat together in the scrape, keeping each other warm. Hazel's torture wounds were healing nicely and Fiver had finally gotten over the nausea and loss of breath caused by the strychnine poisoning, the after-effects of the poison having finally worn off. Hawkbit's scalp injury would take some time to heal and would almost certainly leave a scar, yet fortunately the blackish buck hadn't suffered any brain damage. Bigwig's bullet wound too, although healing nicely, had caused a significant amount of blood loss, resulting in random tiredness and loss of breath, yet the mighty veteran had refused to withdraw from his sentry duty, despite his friends' insistence that he needed rest.

Despite their hunger and worrying, the five rabbits unexpectedly got the chance to do something that none of their kind had ever dreamed of: to meet with their primitive ancestors. While scavenging around for flayrah, Pipkin had stumbled across a present-day rabbit and called the others to come and take a look. The small creature, having picked up their scent, which resembled that of its own kind, slowly inched closer, confused at the sight of its man-sized descendants.

Hazel and the others had tried talking to it, but found it spoke no dialect. Their interaction was cut short when a hungry fox had appeared on the scene, causing it to bolt down a hole. Bigwig and the others, also having picked up the scent of elil, had braced themselves for trouble but burst out laughing when they saw the fox was so small, even Pipkin was more than a match for it. At the sight of the five human-sized rabbits towering over it, it instantly turned on its tail and fled.

"Some creatures we were before Frith's blessing?" muttered Bigwig as they stared at each other in amazement, "Tiny, helpless creatures that can't even talk…By Frith, Drake will someday be giving our kind the ultimate gift: _human intelligence_! No wonder Hemlock wanted him dead; the thought of being second best to another creature with which he would be, in essence, sharing his existence with, must have felt most intimidating! That's why he wanted Alan's people destroyed; he wanted no other dominant creature competing with him." The others nodded grimly.

It was late afternoon on the second day following the destruction of Project Black Inferno, when Josie finally arrived, bringing enough vegetables to feed a small army of vegetarians. As they spotted her approaching, carrying a large hamper under her arm, the rabbits all rushed forward to greet her, anxious to satisfy their hunger. Josie took a moment to inspect their injuries, satisfied to see that they were all healing well. Then, they suddenly became aware that Hawkbit, who was usually the first to make a bid for food aside from Silver, was gone.

"Where is Hawkbit? Is he still asleep in the scrape?" asked Hazel, as he looked round, trying to spot him, but to no avail. Bigwig looked furious.

"That thick-headed buck must have sneaked off to steal food from that human warren," he growled, "That mule-brained miscreant is going to give us away with his recklessness!" In an instant, he tore down the hill, following Hawkbit's scent towards Kingsclere, where the grey-furred buck had sneaked off to, in a desperate attempt to satisfy his hunger. Josie and the rest of the rabbits called after him to come back, but Bigwig took no notice.

It was almost nightfall when Alan and Lucy reached Kingsclere, to rendezvous with the others before heading back to Hotdog's inn in Whitchurch for the night. Throughout the journey, Lucy had continued pestering her father about the Watership Down rabbits and Alan, although a bit frustrated by his daughter's eternal curiosity, but in good spirits, continued telling her about their adventures together. By the time they reached Kingsclere, Lucy was glancing around every few seconds, as if expecting to see Hazel lurking behind the nearest tree. Leaving the loaded car parked in an alley, they made for the snow-covered square, looking for a telephone booth to call Josie and notify her of his arrival.

Suddenly, as they walked down an alley, making for the main street, they heard a commotion coming from a nearby grocery store and saw a figure, in a hooded jacket running on all fours like an animal, dash out, holding a cabbage in its mouth.

"Shoplifter!" someone shouted, as a mob gave chase, "Stop thief!" The figure ducked into their alley to hide, knocking Alan and Lucy over. The hood fell away, revealing a pair of long furry ears; it was Hawkbit, wearing Derek's jacket to disguise himself (and not too well, since he had put it on inside-out). "Alan?" the blackish-grey buck gasped in relief, as Alan got to his feet. "You're back! Where have you…?"

"Shut up! Hide, quick!" Alan hissed, pulling Hawkbit into the shadows behind some garbage cans, as they watched the mob pass outside the alley, luckily without noticing them. As their footsteps died away, Alan turned to Hawkbit, "What the hell are you doing here? If you were caught…!" Before he could finish scolding Hawkbit however, a gruff voice sounded from the other end of the alley, catching them all off guard.

"There you are, you mule-brained field mouse of a buck! I'll beat you so badly, you tharn little…!" roared Bigwig, who stopped dead in his tracks, as he caught sight of Alan, "By Frith of Inle, you're finally back old chap! I was beginning to think that fellow Santon had sold us out…Oh," he said, as he and Hawkbit suddenly spotted Lucy standing beside her father, "Who may you be, young one? Is she a friend of yours, Alan?" The man burst out laughing.

"No Bigwig, much more than that. Bigwig, Hawkbit, meet my daughter, Lucy. Lucy, this is Hawkbit, one of our Owsla scouts and this is Bigwig, our Captain of Owsla." Beaming, Lucy offered her hand to shake, while the two lagomorphs looked stunned, "Your _daughter_?" gasped Bigwig, turning to Alan in surprise, "But I thought Robbins had…"

"That's what _everybody_ thought; Santon found her imprisoned alive in Robbins's house yesterday. Apparently he had made sure that nobody, including his Red Hand buddies, knew anything about it. For some reason, he only killed my wife, _faked_ Lucy's death and hid her away," Alan explained, causing Bigwig's jaw to drop in surprise.

"Since when does that miserable piece of hraka have any compassion?" he said gruffly, "He had no problem killing off our friends one by one, just to crush our spirit, and now you're telling me he lied to his cronies to _protect_ your daughter? You are talking crazy!" Alan nodded in agreement, but added, "It is crazy all right; but it doesn't change the fact that my daughter is alive and standing before us." They turned to look at Lucy who was chatting with Hawkbit; the blackish buck seemed to have developed an instant liking for the human child and was nuzzling her while she patted him between the ears.

A short while later, they had rejoined Josie and the rest of Hazel's band on Watership Down. Hawkbit, to his utmost relief, was spared from being beaten black and blue by Bigwig for his reckless escapade, when Alan introduced his daughter to his friends. Although Josie had already been informed about this new development by Santon, she too couldn't believe it until she saw Lucy for herself, no more than the rabbits could. Lucy, on the other hand, was delighted and completely overwhelmed to meet the heroes of her favourite story and Hazel's group all took an instant liking for her.

"So you're really Alan's daughter?" asked Pipkin, staring up at Lucy. With the exception of Fiver, who was around the same height as Lucy and Pipkin, who was a good deal shorter than her, the rest of the group were all at least a head taller than her (Bigwig was nearly twice her height), yet didn't seem to scare her as they towered above her, "You look so much like him," he said, staring at Lucy's black hair and hazel eyes that resembled her father's. Lucy smiled as she lovingly patted Pipkin between the ears. The dwarf buck nuzzled close to Lucy, while Hazel adoringly nuzzled the crown of her head.

"Your father is a good and loyal friend to us; it is a privilege to have you among us, young one." Lucy grinned at the Chief Rabbit of Watership Down, who smiled back at her in fondness. Alan smiled as he watched his daughter happily interact with Hazel's group, reminding him of the character Justin's friendship with the _Watership Down_ rabbits he had read about in _The Cross Bearer_. Josie however, looked at Alan with a sad look, "How I wish my son was here to share this moment," she whispered, as Alan placed a comforting hand around her shoulder.

"We'll find him Josie; if he's made it into the future, then he'll probably have reunited with his father by now and waiting for us," he said reassuringly, staring into her sapphire-like eyes, that were lined with tears of worry, "Thank you Alan, thank you so much for everything." Alan gently hugged her, "Anytime Josie." For an instant, he felt tempted to kiss her, like he used to all those years ago, but Josie pulled away at the last second, much to his dismay.

Night had fallen when Josie and Alan's cars pulled into the driveway of the Dead Rat Inn in Whitchurch. Alan, Josie, Lucy, Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig, Pipkin and Hawkbit (who now had a fresh collection of bruises inflicted by Bigwig for the raiding fiasco) entered Hotdog's dingy residence. The smuggler was having a drink in his deserted bar with non other than Inspector Santon, who had a bulging traveller's bag beside him along with a large rubber bundle which were the components of his inflatable motorboat; the final touch to their equipment. Both he and Hotdog were ready to join them on their departure for the new world. On the way to Whitchurch, Josie had informed Alan that she was also packed and ready for departure.

In contrast to Alan's last visit, the inn was now completely deserted, all of Hotdog's clients having fled when the police had started combing the area for Red Hand escapees. It was an incredible sight; a wanted criminal sharing a drink with a man, whose career focused on putting the likes of him behind bars.

Josie's baggage turned out to be the silver tuna, containing several other vital essentials that Alan had completely overlooked. Aside from her clothes and personal belongings, as well as those of her husband and son, undoubtedly believing that they would find them alive, there was a case containing a few dozens of fertilised eggs of chickens, ducks, geese and other farm birds, waiting to be hatched, a courtesy of her livestock-breeder neighbour. Although they didn't have any room to transport cattle any livestock, Alan hoped to capture and tame some former farm animals that had survived and adapted to the wildness of the future world.

In addition, Josie had even included all the, otherwise wasted, medical supplies from her infirmary; a priceless health insurance for the rabbits. Hotdog also surprised them when he presented a large, armoured military case, containing an impressive weapons arsenal: six M16 rifles and Franchi shotguns, several handguns of different makes and sizes, two high-voltage Taser batons and finally, a pair of dart guns, complete with a large supply of ammunition.

"Courtesy of the Red Hand Brotherhood," he explained with a smug smile, "With the help of old Santon here, I was able to sneak back into the ruins of the estate and found the armoury down in the mine had survived the inferno. Before the cleanup squad returned to remove everything, we were able to smuggle out as much as we could carry." Alan turned to stare at Santon in surprise; he of all people would normally have strongly disapproved of smuggling out stolen weapons from a crime scene, let alone _participating_ in the escapade. The Inspector raised an eyebrow.

"Pretty soon my title as Inspector will cease to exist; technically, I have no further duty as a law enforcement officer. Besides, I understand going back into that wild future world without weapons would be suicide; I am not about to force you into such a difficult situation over a case of a few stolen weapons that will now serve a far better purpose that what they were originally intended for I am sure!" By midnight everything was packed and loaded; the band of soon-to-be colonists were ready for departure. Santon informed them that their new aircraft had been delivered and was waiting for them at the now deserted Sutch and Martin's Flight Club, from where they could make a safe departure.

Since Alan and Lucy were believed to be dead, Hazel's band supposedly didn't exist, and the imminent disappearance of Santon, Josie and Hotdog would be ruled out as further victims of Red Hand escapees, there was no risk of jeopardising the timeline any further; only Drake and his family would ever know the truth. Santon also passed Alan a brown envelope, containing all the unwanted evidence he and Coyle had weeded out of the case files, which would soon disappear with them back into the future: the rabbit hair samples from Alan's apartment, the photographs, and the pages from Robbins' journal mentioning the future. The tape from the black box (which had been edited), the rest of Robbins' journal and any other scrap of evidence that made no connection to the future had been left to the authorities, to be used in the upcoming trial.

"So that's it then; we are all set and ready for departure. We fly at noon tomorrow!" Alan announced.

Their tasks all finished, the group settled down to enjoy their last evening in the 21st century. Now that they were no longer harassed by Red Hand, they sat around the comfort of the bar, trading stories. Amidst the conversation, Alan kept wondering why had the Threarah, who apparently had been one of the few exceptions to know of humanity's past, never shared this knowledge with his people? So far, he had found no logical explanation for the Threarah's peculiar motives, of initially seeing him as a threat and then placing the safety of his people right into his hands. Could the Threarah have somehow had _foreseen_ his arrival? He couldn't tell why, but felt that the elderly Chief Rabbit had had many secrets and had known a lot more than what he had ever let on. He sighed, realising that the explanation, whatever it was, had undoubtedly died with him. Lost in his thoughts, he flipped through the pages of his _Watership Down_ copy, hoping to find a clue.

"You'll all right Alan?" Pipkin nuzzled close to his friend's side, catching him by surprise, "What is that?" he asked as he sniffed the book in Alan's hand, the curious smell of paper having caught his interest, Alan smiled as he showed the book to Pipkin.

"This, my lad, is the written tale of your world, the book of your life's story." His heart sank, as he saw the blank expression on the buck's face, remembering his little friend couldn't read, "Alan, I…I don't understand these…strange symbols," Pipkin muttered sadly but Alan smiled as he took out from his bag a copy of the _Watership Down _1978 film adaptation, Robbins' gift to Lucy. "How about I _show_ you the story instead? Remember the magic of motion pictures I told you about?" Pipkin looked excited as he recalled what Alan had told him about cinema, "Oh yes, please Alan!"

After making themselves comfortable in the lounge at the back of the bar, Alan inserted the film into the player and dimmed the lights, as the movie started playing. The rabbits all stared in bewilderment, as they saw _themselves_ appear on screen, their life's story literally unfolding before their eyes, just as Alan had described it to them when they had first met. By the time the film had ended, the rabbits were all speechless with shock (with the exception of Hawkbit, who was groaning about not being included in the movie, much to Bigwig's amusement, "Ithel definitely have good taste by not wasting time on your big mouth!").

Hazel was trying to comfort a saddened Fiver, who had gone tharn after seeing his brother's foretold death, while Pipkin was still trembling after seeing his friend's horrific visions of Sandleford's destruction, Holly's flashback of all the rabbits being gassed and crushed to death, as well as Woundwort's brutal killing of Blackavar. Bigwig, who had a rough frown on his face from seeing himself being almost mauled to death by Woundwort, turned to Alan, "So, it means that we are destined to win in the end?" he asked, his mind going over the scene of Woundwort's ultimate demise.

"That, Bigwig, I can't foresee," replied Alan truthfully, "As I said earlier, your world is something of an _inspiration_ from the story I've just shown you; my role in it was never foretold. I suppose if I hadn't come into the picture, things would have turned out just as shown here," he said, ("Nonsense Alan, if you hadn't come, I would have been homba food," Fiver replied, placing a comforting paw on the man's knee). "Despite my knowledge of your story, we don't seem to have any real control over fate; I saved Violet from the hawk attack, yet she still ended up killed by the Efrafans, just like Nildrohein and Blackavar. It seems we are at fate's mercy, regardless of what we do." Nobody dared utter a word, as they kept thinking, what would they find upon their return to the future? Would their friends have come back from the dead? And even if they had, how would things turn out this time round? Maybe Woundwort would ultimately win, dooming their world forever?

Their worries were cut short however, when Hotdog reappeared with a heavily loaded drinks trolley from the bar, "Ladies and gentlemen, all drinks are on the house!" he said, opening a bottle of ale. Bigwig, who was curious about alcohol from all the stories he had heard from Alan, was eager to try it.

To everyone's amazement, the massive veteran seemed to enjoy it, as he swallowed large gulps of whiskey without even wincing at the taste and was soon singing in a drunken state, along with the others who quickly followed suit. Alan however, didn't hit the bottle, his experiences over the past few days having cured his alcoholism as well as his chain smoking. Instead, he helped himself to a ginger beer, as he sat with Lucy, Josie, Pipkin and Fiver, laughing at the sight of a drunken Bigwig singing, 'I love you Hawkbit', or Hazel trying to smoke Hotdog's pipe, causing him to cough and splatter. Only Santon seemed withdrawn, as he sat alone in a corner, smoking a cigarette.

"You're all right Inspector?" Alan asked as he noticed Santon suddenly collapse into a chair clutching his stomach, as if in pain, "What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing," groaned Santon, "Just a stomach ache; it comes and goes. Oh…" he continued groaning, as Alan looked suspiciously at him, "Have you been eating green apples or something?"

"I haven't been able to eat anything all day. Oh…" Santon continued to groan, looking horribly off-colour, as if he were coming down with something bad. Fearing an illness, Alan urged him to take a ride down to the local clinic and have a check-up so he wouldn't get sick in the future, where there were no hospitals to treat him. Finally, Santon gave in and soon was on his way to the local clinic in Newbury.

Later that night, the group finally drifted off to bed; Alan bunked in with Hotdog, Lucy with the rabbits in a disused apartment, and Josie had a private room. With Hotdog snoring like a foghorn beside him, combined with Bigwig's rhinoceros-like snores from next door, Alan lay awake in bed, his mind going over their upcoming flight tomorrow. If the future world had been restored, it would soon be his responsibility to ensure a future both for mankind and the giant lagomorphs. How were they supposed to restart civilisation? Where should they start? He was only a simple biology professor and his friends consisted of only a veterinarian, a policeman, a near-illiterate smuggler and a young girl that had barely finished second grade. The construction of a new civilisation would require a lot more brilliant minds and available hands. Finally, tired of listening to Hotdog's snoring, he got up and went back down to the bar, to get some coffee.

As he approached the counter, he found Josie sitting on a chair, crying softly. Approaching her, he put a comforting hand around her, "Here, here, take it easy. What's the matter?" Josie looked up at Alan sadly. "I can't help thinking about my son," she said, "Will I ever see him again? What if he returns after we've gone and finds that I have disappeared? You said you didn't see him in the future; what if he _isn't_ in the future at all?" Alan gently kissed her forehead.

"If he's in the future, we'll definitely find him; he can't come back after we've gone through, because the warp will close up shortly after we pass through it tomorrow. Don't worry, we'll find him yet." He took a seat beside Josie, holding her close. Unbeknownst to them however, Lucy and Pipkin were silently watching them from the doorway.

"You know Josie, Lucy needs…she needs a mother and brother around…" Alan stammered, feeling his cheeks flush, as he realised what he had just said. Yet Josie smiled warmly, "Oh Alan, that would be wonderful." Then her face turned sad, "Darling…if only I could…" she said sadly, staring at the floor in regret.

"But why can't you? I have never stopped loving you, ever after we broke up all those years ago," Alan said encouragingly, yet realising where she was getting at.

"Because of James. I couldn't just turn my back on him and break his heart, not to mention my son's." Alan was tempted to say that McEwen was probably dead, but his respect for Josie's feelings stopped him. The young woman sunk into his embrace, "I am so sorry love; when we get to the future and I find James and my son, we shall have to go separate ways…again." From the doorway, Lucy stared sadly at her heartbroken father, muttering to Pipkin, "Well, I suppose I almost had a mother again." Quietly, they turned and headed back to bed, unaware of the couple that were kissing in the bar behind them.

Meanwhile, a lone figure outside was approaching the inn. Bruised, battered and with an insane gleam in his eyes, Sven Shertok made his way towards Hotdog's inn, a gun in one hand and a satchel containing a bomb in the other. He smiled nastily as he spotted the three cars loaded with the colonists' equipment, parked in the driveway, "So, my informant was right; Johnson is still alive and plans to move to the future with his new friends. Only _they_ won't be going; after they're dead, _I_ will escape to the future in their place, away from the law, and establish Sergey's Soviet, which Red Hand failed to accomplish!" Slowly and silently, he made his way up the fire escape that provided access to all the floors. He smiled as he spotted an open window on the first floor.

Slowly and noiselessly, he creaked it open and stepped inside, making his way down the stairs to the bar. As he crept in, looking for a good place to plant the bomb, he spotted Alan sitting alone at the counter, lost in thought. Seeing his chance, Sven silently crept up behind him and, picking up an empty bottle, he suddenly struck Alan hard over the head. The man fell to the floor, stiff as a board, amidst the shattered fragments of the bottle. Sven lowered his fingers to Alan's throat and found, to his amazement, he wasn't dead. Quickly, he dragged Alan to a nearby pipe and handcuffed his hands to it, immobilising him.

"My turn to steal your life away Johnson!" he sneered, as he stared down at Alan's unconscious form, who was oozing out blood from under his hair. "You and your furry friends will soon be keeping each other company in hell!" Walking over to the counter, he placed the bomb under it and set the timer on a half-hour countdown. A package of Semtex, enough to demolish the entire inn, was attached to the detonator, waiting to explode and annihilate his unsuspecting victims in the process. Then, he spotted the evidence lying on the counter.

Hastily going through the papers, he pocketed the pages from Robbins' journal, as well as some of the photographs, believing he would find some use for all this information later. The rest of the documentation, he discarded.

With the bomb all set, he set off towards the bedrooms, checking that no one was awake to diffuse the devise after he had gone. As he peered into Josie's room, finding her alone, Sven sneered gleefully, "Oho, time for a bit of fun before I depart!" Noiselessly, he carefully marched over to the bed, intent on having his few minutes of 'fun' before fleeing for the airstrip with the group's equipment.

Feeling his presence above her, Josie suddenly awoke and saw him. Before she could shout for help, he clapped a hand over her mouth and with the other grabbed her by the throat, "Hush darling; I'll make it as pleasant for you, as it will be for me. I guarantee you, it will an experience worth taking to the grave!" Josie felt her blood run cold with dread as she struggled helplessly against her attacker.

Alan was sitting alone in the bar, where Josie had left him, trying to work out his feelings for her. Ever since they had lost touch when they were teenagers, he had believed he would never see her again and moved on; now, twelve years later, after having his life turned upside-down, he was unexpectedly reunited with the girl he had loved during his teenage years. Could this be a chance to start anew, to be part of a _whole_ family again and for his daughter to grow up with a new motherly figure in her life?

On the counter beside him lay the brown envelope with the evidence Santon had left him, it's contents strewn all over the countertop, where he had been examining them. He also held his copy of _Watership Down_ with his notes of the future in his hands, flipping back and forth through the pages, lost in thoughts. So lost in fact, he didn't notice the menacing figure of Sven sneak up on him from behind…

Suddenly, he felt a terrible blow on the back of his head and everything went black; after what seemed like hours, he opened his eyes, feeling nauseas and his hair strangely moist; he was bleeding! He tried to move his hands, only to discover he was handcuffed to a pipe on the wall. Sick realisation hit him like a punch in the gut, as he shouted, "Hotdog! Bigwig! Hazel! Josie! Wake up! It's Sven!" There was no answer. Struggling to free himself, he suddenly heard a woman's scream upstairs; Sven was assaulting Josie! He looked around desperately and spotted a corkscrew lying on the edge of the drinks trolley beside him; using his legs, he managed to knock it to the floor and kicked it towards him.

Quickly grabbing hold of the tool, he got to work, picking the handcuff lock with the twisted end of the corkscrew. Working frantically, the cuffs suddenly clicked open and he was on his feet. Grabbing a large kitchen knife from the counter, he rushed up the stairs that led to the dormitories, praying he wouldn't find yet another of his beloved ones murdered…

Meanwhile, upstairs, Josie was still struggling to fight off Sven, who was coming close to suffocating her, as he forced himself on her. Suddenly, a scream was heard from the door. Both Josie and Sven turned and saw Lucy standing there, petrified with fear. Sven stood transfixed, as he recognised the girl that Robbins had supposedly murdered nearly two years ago! Quickly regaining his composure however, he punched Josie in the face to silence her and sprang at Lucy.

Seeing the man come for her, Lucy turned to run, only to be painfully hoisted in the air by her hair, as Sven caught her, "Not so fast, you little bitch! It is time I taught your interfering nuisance of a father a lesson. Robbins may have turned soft, but I will finish his work by crushing your father's spirit once and for all!" Holding her in the air in front of him by her hair, as the girl screamed and struggled, he carried her back towards the kitchen, intent on strangling her in front of her father in revenge for ruining him.

Suddenly, the gleaming blade of a kitchen knife swung from the shadows and then he felt his own warm blood splatter across his face, followed by a terrible pain in his wrist, as his right hand detached from his arm and fell to the floor, along with Lucy. Yelling in agony, he grabbed the stump of his missing hand as Alan emerged from the shadows holding his daughter securely against him, snarling, "Keep your hands off my daughter, you bastard!" Realising he had lost and not wanting to be captured now, Sven turned and fled as fast as his legs could carry him. He burst through the nearest window, down the fire escape and disappeared into the night.

Alan picked up his daughter to comfort her, as she held on to him, trembling violently from shock. "It's all right sweetheart, it's over. Everything is fine." By that time, the rabbits and Hotdog had also appeared, awoken by the commotion. They gasped as they spotted all the blood splattered on the floor and the bloodstained knife still clutched in Alan's hand. "What in Frith's name is going on down here? Are we under attack?" Bigwig groaned, his eyes bloodshot from the drinking.

"It was that man Sven," Josie replied, taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Although fortunately Sven hadn't managed to rape her, she was still in shock from the assault. Lucy too, although unhurt, was horribly shaken by Sven's violence. Fiver and Pipkin nuzzled close to Lucy, trying to calm her down with their warm furry bodies. It seemed to work, as Lucy relaxed and smiled, the shock slowly wearing off.

"Oh my God, Alan, you're bleeding!" Josie cried, spotting the blow on Alan's head, where the bottle had struck him. A few minutes later, the group were all assembled in the bar again, as Josie tended to Alan's injury; the cut was small and she was able to clean it up with a napkin and a bowl of hot water. Josie also had a bleeding nose and a bruise on her cheek where Sven had punched her, which were tended to by Alan. Lucy had only suffered a mild shock but still needed a hot drink to calm down. As soon as they were all patched up, Alan, Bigwig and Hotdog, went outside to scout the block for any signs of Sven, but found nothing, aside from a bloody patch of bloodstained snow on the pavement where Sven must have placed the stump of his hand, to relieve the pain. Although Alan was disappointed of not having killed him when he had the chance, he knew Sven was gone for good; now that he was a fugitive as well as an invalid, he couldn't return to the Armed Forces using an alias, so he was no longer in any position to pose a threat in the future.

They returned to the inn, where they found Josie looking downcast, "I just received a phone call from the hospital; Santon has been hospitalised, pending an operation," she said. Alan paled, "What? Did Sven attack him too?" he asked, afraid that Sven may have claimed the life of another person tonight. But Josie shook her head.

"No, it is appendicitis; the doctor says he needs to undergo surgery, so they can cut out his appendix. And they can't do it until tomorrow." Alan sighed; there was no way Santon could recover in time to join them. They had no choice but to leave him behind, or they would miss the time warp.

"Then, I guess we'll just have to leave without him," Alan said regretfully and the others silently nodded in understanding. "Drake might be able to help him when the Apocalypse arrives, but we can't do anything for him now. We depart in the morning on schedule."

"Oh Frith," groaned Hawkbit, "why do I feel as if my head is on fire? I can't even remember how I got like this!" he said, nursing his sore temples. Alan snorted, "You're alright; you just lost control with the drink last night. Oh and by the way," he said, remembering something that would give them all a good laugh when they needed it most, "Bigwig was singing that he loves you!" he said, causing both Bigwig and Hawkbit to gasp in shock, while the others roared with laughter, their good spirits restored.

"What did you say, you flea-brained ithe? That I would…well, _him_?" Bigwig yelled, wrestling Alan to the floor, as all the others laughed at Hawkbit, who groaned in embarrassment, "Very funny!" Suddenly, Josie's terrified voice interrupted their laughter.

"Alan, what is this?" Alan and Bigwig, both sensing the seriousness in her voice, rushed over to her. Alan gasped, as he spotted Sven's bomb under the counter, counting down from just under 30 seconds, "Bloody hell! Everybody, run for your lives! Let's get out of here!"

"No wait, we have to stop it! My business…!" Hotdog said realising his inn was about to be blown up. Alan grabbed his friend by his shirt collar, "There is no time! Come on, or we all die!" They all rushed for the exit; just as they had made it to the driveway, there was a loud explosion and the entire Dead Rat Inn was blown sky-high.

They piled into their vehicles and sped off, as the building came crashing down in a huge pile of rubble. Sirens wailed in the distance, as the police and Fire Brigade made their way to the burning remains of Hotdog's inn.

After they had driven a safe distance out of town, they pulled over, to catch their breath and reassess. Fortunately, all of their equipment had been loaded on the cars earlier that evening, so they hadn't lost anything other than Alan's copy of _Watership Down_ and the evidence, which he had forgotten back at the bar.

Alan felt a twinge of sadness at the loss of his book, which had been his favourite companion for many years, but the fact that he would soon be living among the very _characters_ of the story, comforted him. Only Hotdog was groaning miserably at the loss his inn. Alan put a comforting hand on his old friend's shoulder, "Never mind, Hotdog. You've already got a new job waiting for you in the future. In a few hours, we will be on our way to a new future and a new life!"

Author's note: Another chapter gone! In the original draft, Blackberry was among the group instead of Hawkbit and got to see himself as a doe in the TV series, with hilarious results! However, I changed it and instead gave all the traits of the doe Blackberry to Violet. Coming up next, their return to the future! What will they find? Enjoy and please review!


	44. Chapter 44 Return To The Future

It was late morning when Alan's group of eight arrived at Sutch and Martin's Flight Club. After Sven's bombing of Hotdog's inn last night, the group had spent the remainder of a restless night in their cars, taking turns standing watch. At first light, they had made for the airstrip, to find their awaiting new aircraft. On the edge of the abandoned airstrip, Alan saw the retrieved wreckage of Julio's Cessna, where Santon's salvage team had abandoned it, until it could either be repaired or scrapped.

He smiled as he caught sight of their new plane, which stood parked on the edge of the runway; their ticket to a new life awaited them. He turned to Hazel's band that were cramped in the back seat, all wearing hooded jackets to conceal their true appearance from any prying eyes until they were safely onboard. "This is it lads; in half an hour, we'll all be on our way home!" The rabbits all looked overjoyed that they would soon be back in their own world, yet Alan didn't fail to notice the look of nervousness on their faces, undoubtedly wondering, what would they find there? History had undoubtedly been changed; but to what extent?

The weather was fine, yet a low cloud cover hung over southern England, hiding the time warp from view, which was still hovering a mile above their heads, waiting to transport them back to the future. This unique phenomenon caused by the strange solar disturbance would end in a few hours and then it would all be over; nobody else would ever go through and they would never be coming back. Soon, the world of the 21st century would only exist as a memory to them, and the world of the 28th century would become their new home time. As they got out of their cars, Alan turned to Josie and Hotdog.

"I know I have told you this before, but I have to ask you one last time: Are you sure you want to come with me? Once we are airborne, there will be no turning back…ever. It's still not too late to change your minds." Hotdog and Josie both only shook their heads firmly.

"You really think I am going to let you go alone?" asked Hotdog, "I have nothing left to live for here; my business is ruined, my clients are asking for my head since I can't pay them, and you're my last remaining friend. Derek would have done the same for you."

"And I have to find my husband and son," said Josie, "If they are alive, then we can be reunited as a whole family; if they are dead, at least I'll know once and for all, instead of spending the rest of my life wondering what happened to them. I haven't got anything left here anyway, not with the end of the world almost upon us. I am going with you Alan and my mind is made up." Alan smiled; they weren't about to desert him now. The four colonists got to work loading their equipment onboard the Skytruck, the rabbits helping out as much as possible.

After an hour of hard donkeywork, all the baggage was loaded; clothing, food and water, medical supplies, weapons and ammunition, tools, the box containing the hard drive with the records of knowledge, some personal belongings, and Santon's inflatable motorboat, took up every locker and rack in the cabin, leaving only the seats vacant for the passengers.

While Josie and Lucy went over the manifest, making sure everything was onboard, the men got the outfit's fuel truck ready. Although the plane already had more than enough fuel for the journey, Alan had insisted on postponing takeoff, to top off their tanks. It was unlikely that they would be finding any refuelling stations in the future and the aircraft could be of further use to them, even after their return journey. If they had enough fuel for a few more flights, then they might be able to cross the Channel and reach the European coast, to conduct a more extended exploration of the future world. Perhaps they could find more people, a future civilisation that had survived? Hemlock's war to purge his domain of humanity was only restricted to the British Isles after all; perhaps there would be more humans left somewhere around the world?

With Hotdog manning the hose, Alan walked over to a post box on the edge of the road and placed a sealed envelope bearing Santon's name inside. After Sven's attack last night and fearful that the fugitive terrorist might try again to ruin everything they had worked so hard to accomplish, Alan had written out instructions to Santon to protect Drake and the secrecy of the future at all costs. This would also give Drake the best chance of evading his grim fate, with a secret watchdog in the background watching out for him.

Returning to the plane, he found Hotdog had finished refuelling and had started the pre-flight check. He saw his friend unpacking some sort of strange digital instrument and wiring it up to the control panel, like a GPS screen, "What's that?"

"It's a satellite chronometer linked up to Project Black Inferno; another souvenir from Red Hand's headquarters. It tells the time and date via the satellite computer. It should help us keep an accurate track of the date during our passage through time." Alan smiled at his friend's thinking. Suddenly, he became aware that the flight club wasn't entirely deserted.

As he went outside to listen to the weather forecast on a portable radio, he noticed a lumpy figure crouching behind the fuel truck beside the hanger, seemingly watching them. Although it was probably just some local passer-by, curious about the presence of an aircraft on a supposedly closed down airfield, he didn't want some stranger spotting his rabbit friends, even when they were ready for departure. Tucking the radio in his belt, he motioned to Bigwig to follow him; they noiselessly made their way around the hanger from either side, towards the trespasser.

Sure enough, as Alan approached, he saw a fat man watching the plane, taking photographs on his cell phone, while smoking right next to the fuel reservoir. Alan frowned at the man's carelessness as well as his cheek of nosing in on them and taking photographs.

"Watch it, you idiot! Bloody great idea, smoking right next to a loaded fuel truck! What are you trying to do, start a bonfire…you!" Alan growled softly, as he spun the man round, only to recognise the grease monkey that had mocked him about his family, that night on Baker Street. "So, we meet again meatball."

The grease monkey, apparently believing Alan to be dead, backed away in shock, only to bump into Bigwig who came up from behind. Alan confiscated the man's cell phone and erased the memory, before tossing it back in its owner's face. The grease monkey meanwhile stood petrified in shock, as if about to faint at the sight of a fierce-looking giant rabbit towering over him. The mighty veteran frowned as the fat man continued to stare at him dumbstruck.

"Well, what are you looking at, you fat lout? Hop it!" The mechanic gave a high-pitched scream of terror and bolted, as fast as his legs would carry him.

"What a loser that one," Alan muttered, watching, amused, as the grease monkey run like a mouse before a cat. But his laughter was cut short, as he heard an announcement on the portable radio he had been tuning earlier for the weather forecast, _"Astrophysicists report that the solar flares that created the mysterious Aurora Borealis over England are beginning to cool and the Aurora, already dimming, will be over by midday."_ Alan felt his blood run cold as he checked his watch and saw it was already eleven-thirty. He turned to Bigwig.

"Bigwig, get everybody onboard now! We are leaving!" He rushed towards the radio shack, where Hotdog had gone to pick up the flight charts they would need to navigate and found his old friend helping himself to the coffee pot in Shelton's office, "Hey Al, want some coffee?" he asked, as he inserted some change into the slot. "Man, I am dying for a double mint frappuccino…!"

"Never mind your bloody coffee!" snapped Alan, "We have to get out of here now or we'll miss the warp! I just heard it on the news; it's about to recede any moment now!" Grabbing Hotdog by his coat collar, he dragged him outside, with his friend fussing about leaving his coffee, still boiling in the pot.

With all their baggage securely stowed onboard the Skytruck, the group of eight boarded and secured the doors for take-off. While Josie helped Lucy and the rabbits get firmly strapped into the seats, Hotdog and Alan started the take-off procedures.

Meanwhile, the grease monkey, after having run a safe distance from the flight club, stopped and called a number on his cell phone, his eyes darting from side to side, to ensure he wasn't been watched, "Everything is set guv'nor; they are taking off on schedule and don't suspect a thing. Bloody hell, those… _rabbits_ nearly gave me a heart attack! They were actually _talking_…!"

"_Are the repairs complete, according to Captain Pete's specifications?"_ came Sven's voice. Unbeknownst to Alan, the grease monkey hadn't been a coincidental passer-by; he had been sent by Sven, after last night's bombing had failed, in a last desperate attempt to extract revenge on the group by making sure they never made it back to the future. On Sven's instructions, he had done certain 'servicing' to the aircraft, making sure Alan and his friends would be embarking on a one-way flight…to eternity.

"No worries guv'nor. In half an hour, that aircraft will be history. I set everything, so nothing will appear out of the ordinary, until it's too late. It depends on how long your man can keep them busy, for the sabotage to take effect."

_"Splendid. I am giving the word for our man to set out. If all goes well, you my friend will be handsomely rewarded."_ The grease monkey smirked triumphantly.

"Initiating engine start sequence; master on, mixture on, cross-feed fuel selector set, ignition on." Hotdog hit the ignition switch and pushed the throttles forward. The engines roared as the props sprang to life. They aligned with the runway, before pausing for the final checklist.

"Anti-ice on, anti-collision light on, navigation lights on, beacon light on, transponder set, radio set, GPS tracking, flaps zero, floats rudder disengaged, engines temperature and pressure normal," Alan said, checking the instrument readings, clearing them for take-off. Hotdog pushed the throttles on full power and disengaged the parking brakes; the plane started moving forward along the runway, gathering speed as it went, 20knots… 40knots… 80knots… Suddenly, the wheels left the ground, as the plane soared into the sky and they were on their way.

Studying Julio's flight chart, which he had salvaged from the Cessna wreckage, trying to determine the exact location of the warp and consulting the GPS, Alan plotted the course. As they flew westwards, towards the estimated coordinates in the restricted New Forest area, they suddenly heard some other flight controller on the radio, _"Unidentified aircraft, this is Greenham Royal Air Force Base. Be advised, you are entering restricted airspace! Immediately turn to coordinates two-…"_

Alan hastily switched off the transponder and radio receiver, so the local radar stations couldn't track them. Although it was unlikely that they would do anything other than continue ordering them to exit the forbidden zone until they vanished, he didn't want to risk being pursued by Air Force planes. Levelling the aircraft at cruising altitude of 10,000ft, they flew straight towards the coordinates where the time warp was supposed to be. When they were only within a few hundred yards from the location, he turned to the others.

"Brace yourselves for an extraordinary sight. Any second now, you should see time moving on without us." They all held onto their seats, expecting to see the world on the ground start to change. But, to their utter bewilderment, nothing happened. Instead of encountering the strange force of the warp that disrupted electricity, followed by a time distortion effect outside, the aircraft continued to fly straight and level, encountering no interference.

"Well, where is it? You said we should have crossed it by now," Hotdog said, as he noticed nothing was happening. Alan felt himself start to sweat; why wasn't the time warp working? Perhaps it had shifted to another position or had they missed it?

"Take this thing around and we'll try again." Unfortunately, even as they tried again, nothing happened; the time warp was gone! Alan sunk back into his seat, his hands running through his hair in desperation. He didn't know how long he sat there, before he felt Pipkin nuzzle him under the arm. He turned and saw all his friends had gathered up front, having realised something was wrong.

"Well, why aren't we going through?" Hazel asked, looking worried. Alan slowly took a deep breath, before turning to face his friends with the hard truth, "We are too late for the warp; we've missed it." he said softly, as he watched his rabbit friends take in the devastating news, that they would never see their home again. Fiver and Pipkin started sobbing softly, while Bigwig and Hazel drooped their ears in disappointment. Hawkbit only groaned, muttering sarcastic remarks under his breath (a cuff over the head by Bigwig shut him up). Just as Alan was about to reassure them that he'd do everything within his power to help them build a new home in this time, Hotdog suddenly broke the silence.

"Fighter plane at ten o'clock!" he called, pointing out the side of the windshield, at an unmarked but fully armed fighter plane closing in on them. Alan turned on the radio to try and talk to the incoming aircraft, thinking it was an RAF patrol aircraft, checking out the presence of a non-responsive aircraft in the forbidden zone. But he found all transmission instruments had been disrupted with static; the fighter plane had activated a scrambler to jam their signals so that they were flying blind; a sign of an imminent attack!

A scream from Josie turned Alan's attention back to the fighter plane and saw, to his horror, the pilot launch two missiles at them. Hotdog instantly turned the stick sideways, sending the plane into a belly roll, causing everyone who was standing to lose their balance. The missiles passed within an inch of the fuselage and flew passed them, where they self-destructed, having missed their target.

"Everyone back to your seats now! Things are about to get ugly!" In an instant everyone was seated and strapped in, as Alan and Hotdog kept their eyes peeled for another attack, as the fighter plane continued pursuing them.

"There is no chance of outrunning that supersonic Typhoon; we better do some violent manoeuvres and perhaps we can shake him off if he does an accidental flyby," Hotdog said, as he scanned the air for any more missiles. Alan shook his head, "No, those missiles have a heat-tracking, target-lock-on system. If we start moving around in circles, one of those buggers will nail us when we can't see them. Let him make the first move; he's only got five more left." No sooner had the words crossed his lips, than the fighter pilot launched his third missile.

"The plane will break up if I do any more violent aerobatics," Hotdog said, as he tried to shake off the approaching missile, "We are already dangerously overloaded for violent manoeuvres."

"Then let's set a false target," Alan suggested, taking out a flare pistol from the emergency locker and loading a cartridge. "Those buggers are designed to sense and follow heat sources; a hot flare will register as a running engine." Hotdog activated the emergency depressurisation sequence, causing everyone's ears to pop, yet they weren't flying high enough to cause asphyxia, "Cabin pressure equalised; you can open the window!" Alan slid open the windshield side window and fired the flare to his three-o'clock. The missile guidance system, sensing a warmer heat source, diverted away from them and intercepted the flare instead, detonating on impact.

"Three down, three to go," he said, reloading the pistol. They heard the pilot launch his forth missile; again, it intercepted another of Alan's flares and safely self-destructed away from the aircraft. He was about to fire a flare at the last two missiles, when they suddenly hit turbulence; his hand banged against the windowpane, causing the pistol to slip from his fingers and fall away, "Shit, I lost it! Where is the other flare pistol?" Hotdog pointed over his shoulder towards the locker at the rear of the cabin, "By the time I get there, we'll be blown out of the sky!" The missiles were closing in on them fast and now they had no way to divert them.

"They're running after the engines; I am killing the heat source. Turn them off!" Hotdog shouted, as he pulled back on the throttles and hit the fuel cut off switch. They heard the engines die down and next second, both missiles sailed over the wings, narrowly missing them, before self-destructing in the foreground, only a few yards away from their windshield. The shockwave found them directly on the nose, causing the plane to vibrate dangerously, as if it were about to break apart. Electrical sparking was heard, as the vibration damaged the cabin circuitry, causing the lights to short out. But the plane remained airborne, both its engines still running.

There was no time to breath a sigh of relief however, as the pilot instantly switched over to his cannons; machine gun fire whizzed all around them, as the fighter plane circled above them to get a clear shot at their tail. Hotdog rolled the plane over to get out of the range of fire, as a shower of bullets flew narrowly missed their rudder. Just as Alan thought the plane would break up under the strain, suddenly, without warning, the scrambler jamming their instruments ceased. The fighter plane had vanished into thin air.

"Where the hell did it go?" Hotdog asked, as they stared dumbstruck at this strange disappearance. Then Alan suddenly noticed a very faint, yet familiar, rainbow-coloured glow under the shadow of the overhead clouds, where the fighter plane had vanished. His jaw dropped in surprise as he realised what he was seeing, before he burst out laughing, "Thank you Red Hand. Thank you Red Hand! THANK YOU RED HAND!"

Project Black Inferno, which was hovering in orbit above them, was acting like a heart bypass machine; its weakened electromagnetic pulses, which were reflected by the Earth's magnetic field, were coincidently set at the right frequency, to reopen the time warp, by providing an alternate source of electromagnetic energy to power it. Ironically, the supposed-to-be weapon of mass destruction had become an artificial time machine, presenting them with an alternate route back to the future! Alan turned to his confused friends with the news.

"It _isn't_ over yet lads; we still have a way back home. Red Hand, despite its multiple attempts on our lives, has given us a final service of compensation," he said pointing at the new time warp hovering above their heads. Cries of joy and hope erupted from the rear of the cabin, as the lagomorphs realised that they were going home after all. Alan turned to Hotdog.

"It seems to have shifted to 18,000ft, just at the maximum altitude limit of our plane. I think we can make it. All right, let's not doodle about; it could recede at any moment. Everyone, make sure your seatbelts are secure. We are going to climb higher to reach the warp." Hotdog turned the aircraft in a wide circle and started their ascent, 11,000ft… 12,000ft… 13,000ft…Suddenly, as they passed 14,000ft, Alan started feeling a strange sensation in his lungs, making it difficult to breathe, which seemed to slowly intensify with the climb. Turning to Hotdog, he noticed that he too was panting for a breath and the faint groans in the back confirmed that everyone onboard was having the same trouble. It was almost as if the air in the cabin was becoming too thin for breathing…

"Hotdog, do you feel that?" Alan asked as he felt this unpleasant suffocation persist; soon he would be struggling to stay conscious. Hotdog nodded, looking rather worried, "Yes, I feel as if I am flying at high altitude with no oxygen. That's impossible; the cabin is pressurised." Alan's mind instantly turned to the depressurisation Hotdog had performed earlier, "Did you forget to seal up the pressurisation vents? Perhaps the depressurisation is still enabled?" Hotdog instantly turned to the cabin pressure control panel, "The warning light should indicate if it they're open. No, I am reading a stable atmosphere of 12psi."

"Reset the sensors; sometimes a depressurisation can cause pressure indicators to jam and give false readings." Hotdog flipped a switch to renew the sensor readings, "Strange…" he muttered, tapping the pressure gauge, "it's not resetting itself. It was working fine at the pre-flight check." Alan frowned in suspicion; this didn't sound good at all.

"I am going aft to check the cabin barometer. You do a complete systems check." He got up and headed to the rear of the cabin, where there was a pressure barometer fixed to the panelling. Josie, barely managing to stay conscious, turned to him, "What's wrong with the air, Alan? I can barely breathe…!"

"I don't know Josie; I think there is something wrong with the cabin pressure. Is anyone else feeling light-headed back here?" he asked and Josie nodded, indicating a group of panting giant rabbits, about to pass out in their seats; something was definitely wrong. Turning to the barometer, he gasped as it read less than 8psi of environmental pressure; the cabin was no longer pressurised! He turned hurried rushed back to the pilot's seat, "The vents are still open Hotdog; the cabin pressure is dropping with our ascent. Are you sure you didn't seal them properly?"

Hotdog turned to the instruments on the control panel, "The indicators say everything is working normally. What are the odds of both sensors giving false readings?"

"Very likely, I daresay," Alan said as he tapped and felt the panel, testing for a glitch. He hands froze as he felt the screws that held the console in place; they were slack, as if someone had recently undone them. Taking out a screwdriver, he opened up the panel and found the wiring had been sabotaged; someone had disconnected the sensors, so the warning light gave no indication that the vents were open. As he reattached the wires, the indicator reading instantly turned red and the buzzer went off, confirming that the cabin was indeed no longer pressurised. Hotdog flipped the switch to seal up the vents, but got no response. The system had been sabotaged.

"It was a trap; they _meant_ us to depressurise the cabin, to shoot back at that fighter plane. Someone deliberately sabotaged the vents, so we can't get them closed. It seemed they wanted to make sure that even if we escaped, we would succumb to lack of oxygen without realising it, fall into blackout and crash. I should have told Santon to have someone guard the plane until we arrived. Damn!" There was no other way to put it; they were stuck…again. With no cabin pressure, they couldn't fly above 12,000ft without succumbing to asphyxia within minutes, putting the rapidly dimming Aurora beyond their reach.

"So what do we do now, Alan?" Josie asked, as she listened to the two men talk. "Perhaps we could fly up on the emergency oxygen supply?" But Alan shook his head.

"I don't think we have enough oxygen for everyone; the bottles contain only 15 minutes of emergency oxygen, to sustain the passengers and crew long enough for an emergency descent, not for the entire duration of the flight! At 18,000ft, we use up oxygen really fast and anyone deprived of it, falls into blackout within seconds; five minutes of exposure to that environment and it's good-bye. There is no way we could hold out long enough to fly up there, cross that warp and then make an emergency descent on the other side."

"What about the autopilot?" suggested Hotdog, "We could set the autopilot for a fixed altitude and course heading, and activate it just before we pass through the warp. Surely our oxygen should last long enough for us to _align_ with the warp? The autopilot can take over from there and fly us through." But Alan, remembering the effects of the warp, shook his head.

"The warp disrupts all electrical systems; the interference will cause the engines to fail. Unless someone can stay conscious to glide the plane through and then restart, we'll never make it. Besides, even if we could hold out long enough to set the autopilot, we'd still be stuck with no one to fly us down to a breathable altitude. Unless…" he said, suddenly remembering something important. The plane's emergency supply had fifteen minutes of oxygen, split between ten passengers. But with the absence of Coyle and Santon, their supply was extended by another five minutes. Although still insufficient, he had come up with a wild idea. Doing some hasty calculations to ensure the numbers were correct, he turned to his companions.

"All right, this is what we're going to do: we don't have enough oxygen to sustain us for the _entire_ duration of the crossing. However, we have enough for all of us to make it as far as the warp; once we get there, seven of us can go off oxygen, leaving enough for the other two to fly us through and then make an emergency descent to a breathable altitude on the other side. It will only be for a couple of minutes tops; a blackout of such small duration can't harm us." The others seemed encouraged by the idea, yet uncertain as to _who_ should volunteer to go off oxygen at the right moment. Alan however had already decided.

"Hotdog and Lucy are the ones who will stay on oxygen; Hotdog is the pilot and can't be spared and my daughter is the youngest and needs it more than the rest of us." The others however, especially Josie, weren't pleased on the arrangements.

"But you're the backup pilot! If something happens to Hotdog while we're out, you're the only one who knows how to land this thing." But Alan remained firm, "I am not risking having my daughter hurt on any account; letting any of you take that risk feels bad enough. Hotdog is more qualified than me, so I can be spared." But Josie knelt and whispered in Alan's ear, so no one else could hear.

"What about his pacemaker? His heart won't hold together, should the pacemaker fail during the crossing." Alan stared back at Josie in alarm, "When did you discover that? Since when does Hotdog have a _heart condition_?"

"Yesterday, when I doctored his injuries from the raid on Buxton Hall, I saw the scar on his chest. I didn't think much of it then, until you mentioned the effects of the time warp." Alan was speechless; if that were the case, then Hotdog would probably not make it through, leaving him once again with the responsibility of getting the rest of them down safely on the other side. The memory of Julio suffering that fatal heart attack flashed through his mind and realised that he had a far greater responsibility at hand.

"All right, we haven't got time to argue about this. Hotdog, line us up with the warp and set the autopilot just in case. Josie, help me distribute the oxygen bottles. They are in the starboard locker beside you." A few minutes later, the four portable bottles onboard were divided between the passengers, two breathers per bottle.

Before Alan could return to his seat however, Bigwig approached him and whispered softly into his ear, so the others couldn't hear, "You know, if we can't make it through, the danger isn't that we might never return to our own time, but that we will be marooned _alive_ in this time." Alan looked at him curiously, as the rough veteran went on speaking, "We know things that must never be revealed to this past world. Dangerous secrets, such as the origins of the future, or that Hemlock will someday destroy humanity. Our presence here would be disastrous and could threaten our entire existence. You must either succeed in getting us back home, or see to it, that none of us survive to talk, including yourself." Without another word, he turned to return to his seat, as Alan realised the harsh truth: if they couldn't get back to the future, then they would all have to die, to protect it. Getting back into his seat, he spoke on the intercom.

"All right, remember: you just keep the mask firmly pressed over your mouth and nose and breathe normally. Everybody ready? Masks on!" On Alan's mark, everyone turned on the oxygen supply and they started their ascent, with Alan keeping track of the oxygen level using his watch as a chronometer.

12,000ft… 13,000ft… 14,000ft… He watched the cabin pressure level dip, as it equalised with the external environment. They continued their ascend, 15,000ft… 16,000ft… 17,000ft…

"Oxygen masks off!" he called out, as they reached 18,000ft; within seconds, everyone was on the verge of passing out from the thin atmosphere, with the exception of Alan and Hotdog, who remained on oxygen to continue flying the plane. Hotdog aligned the plane with the warp, as they flew straight towards it. Despite the daylight that was hiding the warp's bright rainbow-coloured ribbons from view, a clear patch of sky in the clouds marked its location, as the clouds seemed to drift across that patch and disappear.

Setting the throttles on full power, preparing for the time-jump, Alan placed both hands firmly on the yoke ready to take over when Hotdog went. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the digits on the chronometer that was clipped to the console. Any moment now, that dial should…

Suddenly, as they neared the boundaries of the warp, a horrible grinding noise was heard from the starboard engine, followed by the loud wailing of the danger alarm. Multiple caution lights lit up on the damage control panel, indicating a low-oil-pressure warning and danger of fire as the engine seized. Looking out the side window, they saw the damaged engine expelling large amounts of black smoke, the prop grinding to a halt.

"That damned grease monkey must have sabotaged it as well!" Alan hissed, hitting the fuel cut-off switch to shut it down before it could explode, as Hotdog feathered the powerless prop and trimmed the rudder, to keep the plane flying level on only one engine. Although they hadn't lost enough thrust to stall, with all that load onboard, the remaining engine was straining to compensate.

"The port engine will seize up as well if we keep overtaxing it like that for much longer," Hotdog said, watching its temperature reading quickly rising to dangerous levels, "Maybe I should take us back down?"

"No, it's too late now. We either cross the warp now or we never will. There we go!" Before the words had even passed his lips, the aircraft flew straight through the warp and vanished from the world of the 21st century and into the future. They stared in amazement, watching the outside world undergo the effects of time distortion, only fast-forwarded to hundreds of times its normal rate. The circling sun dissolved into a blurry twilight, as clouds and other weather phenomena flew by, almost at the speed of light, giving the atmosphere a misty-like appearance. Below them, they could see the terrain change over the years as new trees and buildings appeared and disappeared over the years.

Suddenly, a violent vibration shook the aircraft and they were engulfed in bright red flash, followed by a reddish oxide-like colour that turned the sky semi-dark; the impact of Apocalypse and Pandora had come and gone…again. As Alan stared back at the chronometer, he saw the dials begin to jump: 2013 AD… 2020 AD…2030 AD…In the late 2030's, the atmosphere finally cleared, revealing a vast desert-like wasteland, as vegetation started thriving all over again, 2040 AD… 2050 AD…A layer of snow and ice covered the ground, all the way out to the horizon, as the planet entered the Ice Age. The years rolled by, 2100 AD… 2200 AD…2300 AD…In the late 24th century, the Ice Age ended and a warm climate appeared; thick vegetation continued growing beneath them, as the world turned into a vast wild garden with no traces of human civilisation, 2500 AD… 2600 AD… 2700 AD…

Suddenly, as the dials reached 2791 A.D. the time distortion stream ended and time resynchronised with them; they had reached the other side of the warp in the 28th century.

With his oxygen supply having nearly run out by now, Alan grabbed the stick with both hands, making an emergency descent to a breathable altitude. Realising that the port engine had also gone out from the disturbance caused by the warp, he hit the ignition switch to restart it, but it only splattered; the unexpected shut-down had caused a blockage from some spilled oil in the crankcase, chocking it up. Try as he may, it refused to start.

With the aircraft losing altitude and about to stall from luck of thrust, as a desperate last resort, he tried the trick he had used on the Cessna; turning off the mixture, he hit the ignition, clearing out the cylinders. Trying the engine again, it finally sprang back to life, levelling the Skytruck at 5,000ft, before it could stall.

Sighing with relief, he turned to Hotdog, expecting to find him dead from cardiac arrest, but to his amazement, he found him fully conscious, checking the instruments, "What Al, do I have dirt on my nose or something?" he asked, as he noticed Alan staring at him open-mouthed. He turned to Josie, who was smiling, as she removed her oxygen mask. In an instant, Alan understood, "You made up that pacemaker problem for my benefit!" Josie laughed.

"Yes…For you, for Lucy and for your friends in the back." Alan breathed a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat away from his brow; the worst was finally behind them. They had all survived and returned safely to the future, to their new home. As he turned to read the dials on the chronometer, he saw the date was the 23rd March 2791. They had returned to the future, exactly four days after they had escaped from Efrafa.

Outside, the late afternoon sun was hovering over the western horizon, shining over the stunningly beautiful landscape of the future world. They were still flying over the same area they had been five minutes ago, only the landscape had now aged nearly eight centuries; all traces of human impact had vanished. He picked up the intercom, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 28th century. Watershipers, welcome home!" Cheers and applause broke out in the back, as Alan and Hotdog turned the aircraft round, heading towards the direction of Watership Down.

Author's notes: Alan and his group survived and have finally returned to the future! Coming up next, the results of their tempting with time with reveal themselves (Note: after everything they did in the 21st century, history rewrote itself so things may be different now!). Who is alive and who is dead? Stay tuned for the next chapter and please, please review! Enjoy!


	45. Chapter 45 The New Future

If an astronaut observed Earth from orbit in the year 2791 A.D., he would be confused by the absence of city lights that always shone on the dark side of the planet as well as from the absence of moving vehicles around the globe, save for a single Skytruck floatplane flying over what was once Hampshire, England.

It was late afternoon as Alan and his group flew towards their new home. Below them was the endless paradise-like environment of the future world, looking completely intact and in full bliss once again. The destruction caused by Project Black Inferno had been completely undone, almost as if it had been nothing but a bad dream that never really happened. Their temptation with time had indeed restored everything back to normal. Or had it not?

With their landing gear inoperable, they circled around, heading south towards the canyon where they could make a safe water landing. Passing over Cowslip's warren and the remains of Newtown Common, they spotted the fighter plane that had attacked them earlier, lying crashed in the incinerated ruins of the humanoid lair nearby. Alan grinned with satisfaction as he realised that Cowslip's sick trading of his people's lives for food was history, as the fighter plane had annihilated the village of humanoid breeders. Apparently the pilot, unprepared for the violent time jump, had lost control of the aircraft, resulting in a fatal crash.

Passing over Watership Down, they saw their new home was still intact; the beech tree that stood above the Honeycomb still stood, indicating that the warren had not been blown up in this new timeline. However, the place looked deserted, with no sign of life anywhere, unless if someone was inside the Honeycomb.

As they circled over Efrafa, Alan saw that the island was whole again; Project Black Inferno hadn't existed in this new timeline to destroy it. As they flew over Woundwort's domain, they saw the pit where Project Black Inferno once stood; the satellite was of course no longer there, but it wasn't that which caught their attention. Upon closer inspection, they spotted several rabbits moving around the bottom of the pit. It was impossible to make out any familiar faces from so high, but Holly's genuine greyish-white fur was unmistakable among them. Taking out his binoculars, Alan got the pit into better focus.

"Looks like we have a winner!" he said triumphantly as he counted a dozen prisoners trapped in the pit, including Holly. Among the other prisoners, he also recognised Blackberry, easy to make out from his genuine black-tipped ears. Unfortunately, the distance was too great to identify the rest, or to tell if there were any injured. However, the sight of seeing some of their friends alive again had renewed their hopes. But why would the Efrafans put them down there, instead of killing them outright?

The answer was revealed as he spotted a giant hawk circling over the pit, which was open to the sky, as if about to snatch away one of the rabbits trapped below. They all froze in horror as they realised that Woundwort had ordered them to be _fed alive_ to the elil! By dumping them into that inescapable death trap of a pit, they were sitting ducks to flying predators, to be picked off one by one.

"Jesus Christ, they're dinner! We've got to do something. Josie, my shotgun, hurry!" Opening the side window, Alan pointed the weapon outside, aiming at the hawk. Just as it was about to swoop down onto the helpless prisoners in the pit, he pulled the trigger, planting a bullet into the beast's neck; the hawk screeched in pain and then its dead body plummeted into the river. He sighed with relief; he had hopefully bought their captured friends enough to get them out of there, before another flying hunter could come along looking for an easy meal. As he scanned the air for more hawks, he was interrupted by Hotdog, who was filling with the radio.

"I say guys, I am picking up something on the low-frequency band. Listen to this…" They all listened at the strange squawking, which was interrupted every few seconds by instant gaps. As he listened into his headset, Alan recognised the familiar pattern between the intervals in the squeaking: Morse code! Someone on the ground was trying to transmit an SOS on a distress beacon!

The realisation that someone was using radio technology on the ground came as a great surprise to them, since all human technology, excluding their aircraft, was supposedly forgotten for the past seven centuries! Who could be using a radio, when there supposedly weren't any human beings left on the planet to _build_ one? Could it be Josie's missing son? As they tried to get a fix on the signal, it stopped.

They all held their breaths as they continued to listen, hoping the signal would reappear. Hotdog tried fiddling with the frequency bands, but couldn't get anything on any of the normal aircraft bands. Finally, he switched to the lower frequencies and finally managed to intercept a transmition. They all gasped in surprise as they recognised the voice of a supposedly dead man,

_"…calling unidentified aircraft on heading 075. I repeat, this is Major James McEwen of the Royal Air Forces, calling unidentified aircraft on heading 010. We need help! We are marooned and in desperate need of supplies and medical aid. We are remaining on the air as long as we can…"_ In an instant, Josie had torn across the cabin and had grabbed the headset from Alan, nearly strangling him in the process.

"James! Oh my God, James, is that you?" she wailed into the headset, overjoyed that her husband was still alive. To their surprise, however, McEwen didn't answer back and continued repeating the same message over and over, as if it were only a recording.

"Josie, wait! Quiet! I am trying to listen!" Alan hissed as he continued to listen to McEwen's voice, hoping to hear instructions on how to answer back. "They can't hear us down there. Whatever transmitter they're using, it probably doesn't have a receiver. Hang on…" As they continued to listen, McEwen finally said it, _"If you're receiving us but can't transmit, please respond by signal flare or tune your radio to 85MHz, in 5 minutes. Over and out." _Then the voice stopped, but the distress beacon signal continued to squeak, signalling an emergency. Hotdog started fiddling with the channels, hoping to intercept the frequency on McEwen's walkie-talkie, which fortunately was designed to intercept aircraft radio frequencies. No sooner were the five minutes up, than McEwen's voice sounded again.

"_Unidentified aircraft, this is Major McEwen. Do you read me over?"_ In an instant, Josie had grabbed the headset from Alan, shouting into the microphone, "James, can you hear me? Are you down there? It's Josie!"

"_Who the bloody hell is that? Josie, is that you, love?"_ came McEwen's voice again, sounding shocked to the core, apparently having realised that his wife was in the future. Alan gently took the headset back from Josie, "Major, can you hear me? This is Dr Johnson. We're back!"

"_Bloody hell professor, never thought I'd be so happy to hear your voice again. My wife and son are up there with you too?" _Seeing that it would soon lead to a long chitchat, which they couldn't spare time for at the moment, Alan held the radio against his ear and spoke into the microphone. "Yes, but this is not the time to talk about it. Major, what is your situation down there?"

"_I am barricaded inside Buxton Hall with Silver, Dandelion, Campion, Blackavar and Hyzenthlay. We've got no food or water and the Efrafan army is prowling outside, waiting to starve us into submission and force us to surrender." _Turning his binoculars in the direction of Buxton Hall, Alan saw the ancient building was surrounded by the entire Efrafan Owsla, like a squad of termites going for a discarded cardboard box. On the roof, on the side of the shattered dome, he also saw a board with a red SOS painted on it, confirming that McEwen, Dandelion, Silver, Blackavar and Hyzenthlay were trapped inside, with the solid walls keeping the Efrafans at bay, but leaving them trapped.

"What about Derek and the others? What about them?"

"_I don't know; Woundwort and his army launched an attack on the Down a few days ago and we know some of them were captured and brought back, but I don't know what has become of them. All I know is that Dr Shaw wasn't among the prisoners,"_ answered McEwen's voice, causing Alan to sigh in miserable disappointment; it seemed his childhood friend hadn't made it. He turned back to McEwen on the radio, "And Robbins? What happened to him?"

"_I don't know. I know he joined Woundwort's army in the attack on the warren but didn't come back and it doesn't seem like they are looking for him. I don't know, perhaps he's dead."_ Alan smirked; it seemed fate had finally given Robbins his comeuppance. It was obvious what must have happened: After his usefulness had expired, Woundwort had ordered his death, having no further use for him. Their temptation with time had undoubtedly changed the past, so that some of their friends had never been killed this time round, but they still had a long way to go before setting things right. They had to act without delay.

"Major, can you hold out till nightfall?" he asked, his mind working furiously on a plan to infiltrate Efrafa again, to get them out. Although this time they had firearms, against which even the entire Efrafan Owsla were helpless, he couldn't but feel that their time was running out fast. Sure enough, McEwen's reply confirmed that their friends couldn't hold out for much longer without help.

_"The solid walls of the building are keeping the Efrafans out, but I don't know how much time before they stumble across another entrance somewhere. We don't have the strength to resist a siege…"_

"All right Major, listen to me very carefully now: Try and keep them at bay as long as you possibly can. We are coming with guns. You just hang on for another hour!"

_"Good enough._ _I have to sign off now, to conserve battery power. Just hurry! And bring as much food and water as you can. We're starving to death down here!" _Then his voice was gone. Alan turned to the rest of the group.

"It seems McEwen, Dandelion, Silver, Hyzenthlay, Blackavar and Campion are still alive, trapped inside Buxton Hall. And it also looks like some of the others have been captured alive and imprisoned in Efrafa. Robbins seems to have been killed, but Woundwort is still alive and in control. We must plan another raid on Efrafa to save our friends, and this time we can't afford to fail."

"So what's the plan?" Bigwig asked. Alan considered for a moment, "McEwen's group consists of six and I counted another dozen prisoners in the pit; that makes a total of eighteen at Efrafa, leaving six unaccounted for. It is possible that those six are already dead, but on the other hand, maybe some of them managed to escape and are hiding back at the Honeycomb. I suggest we first take a detour at the Down first and look for any survivors there…"

"But my husband could be in mortal danger! We need to get him out of there as soon as possible," Josie said, looking rather shocked that they were even considering a detour, instead of setting out on their rescue mission without delay.

"And we will," Alan reassured her, "But we ought to stop and inspect for survivors on the Down first; there could be others there in need of help. Besides, we must unload all this cargo, or we won't have room to accommodate the others for the evacuation."

"Alan's right," replied Bigwig before anyone else could protest, "Besides, we shall have to wait until after dark, so we have cover from the sentries. Also, we will need a bigger Owsla to increase our chances of success. Hopefully, we might find some the others still on the Down and add them to our forces. McEwen and the others can hold out for a while longer."

Alan and Hotdog lined up the aircraft for a water landing in the river. Although they still had a few hours till sunset, a thick mist filled the canyon, hiding the watery surface from view and making it a risky landing site. "It's thick as pea soup down here," Alan muttered to Hotdog as they made their near-blind descent into the canyon, "God forbid we don't strike any obstacle on touchdown, or we've had it!"

Carefully watching their instrument readings, Alan lowered the flaps and engaged the pontoon rudders. Just as he thought they would keep descending into that impenetrable mist forever, suddenly the ripples of the river's surface appeared below them and next second, they heard a splashing noise beneath them, as the pontoons touched down. Water sprayed up against the side windows like a water-ski, as the aircraft taxied upriver, heading towards the Down.

Soon, the mist cleared and the towering cliffs surrounding them came into view. Ahead of them, Alan could see the small cove at the end of the canyon, beneath the southern foot of Watership Down. The pebbled beech when Alan, Fiver and Pipkin had enjoyed a swim was still there, looking utterly deserted, just like the Down towering above it. Washed up onto the sandbank, Alan also spotted the liferaft from the Cessna, where Hawkbit had said he had found it and used it to escape in the original timeline with Dandelion.

"We can pull up alongside that sandbank. Easy now…" Cutting the thrust to minimum and using the pontoon rudder for control, they slowly manoeuvred the floatplane towards the water's edge. The floats inched closer and closer to the shore…

"Watch it there, you are getting really close," Alan said, as they felt a slight jerk beneath them and the floats run aground on the pebbled shore, as the plane reached shallow water. Then Hotdog killed the thrust and turned off the engine. "We're safely docked. The plane is secure."

"We made it! We are back home!" Fiver cheered excitedly the humans unfastened their seatbelts and helped the rabbits get unfastened too. They all crowded around the exit, as Alan unlatched the door and opened it, lowering the ladder. One by one, the group of humans and rabbits disembarked, stepping onto the riverbank. Josie inhaled deeply, tasting the fresh air of the future world, "Goodness, this is the best air I've ever tasted in my life. This place _is_ a real paradise," she said, caressing the soft mosses growing on some rocks at the water's edge. Alan smiled at her, as he helped Lucy and Pipkin out. Hotdog followed close behind, also looking utterly dumbstruck at their new home. The four colonists discarded their heavy winter coats, which they no longer needed it in this warm environment.

"All right, let's not hang about. Hotdog, help me unload our weapons kit!" Alan said. After mooring the aircraft securely to the shore with lines, Hotdog passed him his refilled weapons backpack, as well as the weapons from Red Hand's armoury. Hotdog had also made sure to include several Marine service vests and belts, complete with holsters for their weapons. While Josie unpacked several flashlights and her infirmary bag to treat any casualties, the men distributed the weapons between them.

Alan unpacked his father's shotgun, loaded it and placed it in a large holster on this back. He also took his revolver, along with another from the Red Hand arsenal as a spare, as side weapons, and tucked them in the holsters of his service belt, one on each side, along with a pouch of spare ammunition. Hotdog chose his favourite automatic assault rifle, along with a rough-looking baseball bat, which Alan recognised as the very one that they used to play baseball with, back in their teenage years. The carved signatures of the original members of the _Hard Boys_ gang, which had been named after the initials of its four founders, were engraved into the wood: '_Alan Johnson, Derek Shaw, Hotdog Johnny-Boone and Ronald Fields.' _Alan sighed grimly as he caught a glimpse of the names of his childhood friends, one of which he had lost years ago, and the other that was probably dead too…Quickly shrugging it off, he turned to the others.

"All right, we'll search the Honeycomb first, followed, if necessary, by a thorough search of the HAB. Remember, everyone stay alert for any unexpected surprises; we may find some unwelcome company expecting us up there. Let's go!" They made their way out of the canyon and headed towards the foot of Watership Down.

Under the orange glow of the late afternoon sun, the group of nine climbed the Down, heading towards the beech tree that stood above the entrance to the warren. As they walked towards the entrance to the Honeycomb, they passed the unanimous graves of Boxwood and Haystack, where they had laid them to rest before their departure for Efrafa. Two of their horses could also be seen roaming free, grazing without a care in the world. The wooden sundial they had set up was wrecked, undoubtedly by the destructive Efrafans.

As they neared the entrance to the Honeycomb, Alan gestured at the others to stop, as he shone his flashlight down the entrance run, into the main chamber. It looked deserted; there was no movement inside and a total silence filled the warren. Cautiously, they entered the Honeycomb, looking around for any signs of survivors or dead bodies. Josie, Lucy and even Hotdog gasped in amazement as they took in the vast interior of the Honeycomb, which was so beautifully constructed, with the roots of the overhead beech tree holding up the dome-shaped ceiling with other stray roots forming pillars that trailed down to the floor around the chamber, like a natural temple.

Although the warren was intact, there were clear signs of recent fighting and ransacking visible; multiple paw prints covered the floor, among other traces of violence, indicating an invasion. "The Efrafans were here all right; I can smell the scent of Woundwort, Vervain, and Robbins too," Bigwig said, sniffing at the old prints, "And look over here…" he muttered, as he spotted a drying bloodstain on the floor, which looked no more than a few days old.

"Looks like someone was injured or killed here recently. But where did they go?" Josie asked, as they spotted more bloodstains nearby, but no bodies. The Honeycomb was completely deserted and quiet as a grave.

"Hey guys! Over here!" Hotdog called out, from the direction of the sleeping quarters. They hurried towards the burrow that Alan had shared with Derek and McEwen; the place was a complete chaos with the straw beds demolished along with everything else they had built during their initial stay, undoubtedly in an act of hatred by the Efrafan Owsla. Hotdog shone his flashlight on the crate that held the nitroglycerine canisters, which Derek had salvaged from the HAB; Alan frowned as he noticed that three of the canisters were missing, with only one remaining; stolen explosives usually meant big trouble. Combined with the fact that they had found the warren deserted with signs of a recent siege, further lessened their hopes of finding the six missing alive.

Shining their flashlights down the shaft that led to the HAB, they saw a smear of blood on the opposite wall partway down, indicating that someone had plummeted to his death down there, banging against the walls as he went. Alan felt a shiver go down his spine. Maybe the Efrafans had killed them all and dumped the bodies down there to dispose of them? Staring at the pillar where the rope was supposed to be attached to, he saw it had been severed just below the knot, possibly gnawed through by the Efrafans.

"Hallo! Anybody alive down there?" Alan called as loudly as he could, only to hear his own echo reverberate up the shaft. "Can anyone hear me? Hallo!" There was no answer. "Well, I guess we have to do it the hard way. Hotdog, go back to the plane and fetch some rope. I am going to climb down there to check it out."

"Wait, I'll go with you Alan," Josie said, turning to Alan who seemed ready to protest, "If there are any injured down there, you'll need an expert's advise to move them out safely. Don't worry; I have done cliff climbing before." Hotdog returned two minutes later carrying a block-and-tackle, complete with safety harnesses. Alan took the rope and secured one pulley to an overhead root above the shaft.

"Alright, we climb down one at a time. I'll go first, Josie you follow next and Hotdog you pick up the rear. I'll carry your bag down for you Josie, and the two of you bring the flashlights and a handgun each. Nothing heavy mind you; we'll need empty hands to help anyone down there. The rest of you, stay here and keep a sharp lookout in case an Efrafan patrol shows up. We don't need another unpleasant surprise waiting for us when we come back up."

"Wait, I should come with you too!" Bigwig growled, as Alan prepared to lower himself over the edge, "Sorry Bigwig, not this time. For starters, you can't climb down on a rope and we can't afford to be held up now." Bigwig gave him a reproachful glare but shrugged it off. Cautiously, Alan made his way down the seemingly bottomless pit in complete darkness, trying to feel for the bottom as he went. Suddenly, just as he was beginning to worry that there wasn't enough rope to reach the bottom, he felt something cold trickling in his shoes. Caught by surprise, he lost his grip on the rope, letting the pulley unwind. With a yell, he plummeted into the ice-cold water that now filled the bottom of the shaft like a well.

He broke the surface of the water, shuddering from the cold, as he heard his companions' voices above him, "Alan, answer me goddamn it! Are you all right?" The water was only about five feet deep, so Alan was able to touch bottom, with the waterline at chest height. Lighting his flashlight, he shown it upwards towards his companions.

"Yes, just took a quick dip to cool off. It looks like the HAB has been flooded. Probably the sub entry wasn't completely pressurized after all… But the water is stable and there is still a massive air pocket in the passage for us to move through. Come on down!"

Josie and Hotdog climbed down too, shuddering as they touched down in the cold water. "Bloody hell man, this is bloody freezing!" Hotdog moaned, as he held his arms out of the water, while Josie held her precious medical kit over her head to keep the contents dry. Brandishing his revolver in one hand and a flashlight in the other, Alan led the way through the elevator access, into the suit hanger and into the passage beyond. The reactor was still running, so the emergency lights were still burning.

"What's that God-awful smell?" Josie asked in disgust as they all picked up the smell of rotting flesh in the air, "Are there dead rats down here or something?" Sure enough, as they made their way down the flooded passage towards the atrium, a bloodied body suddenly bobbed up out of the water in front of them. Alan cringed as he recognised Acorn, vicious claw scratches all over his mutilated body. Undoubtedly he had died in the siege and the Efrafans had tossed his body down here to rot. Pushing the lifeless body of his fallen companion aside, Alan led the way into the atrium, which had become a swimming pool of mud and floating junk, towards the control room.

Marching up the stairs and out of the water, they entered the deserted control room. The snowy monitors were still running, but displaying no readable data, as the mainframe computer was down. Hotdog whistled aloud, as he looked out the broken windows into the atrium, completely bewildered at the massive size of the facility. The bottom of the atrium was underwater with the fourth level completely submerged and the water up to several feet on Level 3, yet the first and second levels were still dry. It seemed after the water had come level with the river in the canyon outside, it had stopped rising, sparing most of the facility from destruction. Other than that, the place was exactly as they had found it several days ago. But no, not completely…

Staring around the control room, Alan saw something had changed; on their initial visit, the control room had been vandalised, yet all the equipment had still been there. Now, he noticed the place was completely stripped; the luminous chart table was missing and the armoured casing in the centre of the room, which normally housed the mainframe computer, was empty, along with several other consoles around the room, leaving behind only loose wiring hanging out of their sockets. Only the computer station housing the facility's visual log remained untouched. Their temptation with time had undoubtedly changed something in the history of this new timeline. Suddenly Josie's screams caught him off guard.

Turning round, he realised she had spotted Drake's mummified body, exactly where they had found him last time. As they hurried over to her, Alan saw that there were now two additional corpses alongside Drake's. One was another man of around Drake's age and the other a woman's. Kneeling above the second corpse to get a closer look, he spotted an old police badge clipped to the dusty khaki shirt. Brushing away some dust with his thumb, he identified the man, "Oh my God, it's Inspector Santon!"

"And this is Simmone Drake, Dr Drake's wife," Josie said, as she read the dogtag around the dead woman's neck. "But didn't you say that Drake was the only one left here, when Hemlock came for him?"

"It looks like our temptation with time changed that somehow. Wait a minute…" Alan said, as he spotted Drake's armoured case lying open on one of the computer stations, where he had left it previously. There were many additional notebooks, photographs and maps of the new world, which he couldn't remember seeing in it last time, indicating Drake had survived longer than in the previous timeline. Turning to the HAB's video log, he also saw a longer list of entries on the screen. He activated the 2041 recording, to see what had happened this time round. Drake's aged face appeared on the screen, as the new log picked up from where it had left off.

"_My worst fears have become a reality. After El-ahrairah, Rubscuttle and Laurel left to establish a warren, Hemlock chose to remain behind, claiming he wanted to 'learn more about the human world' in false hopes of helping us built a better civilisation. The traitorous scum finally showed his true colours today. It appears he had been planning this moment for some time now. The mentally disturbed children that had gone missing have become his muscle, trained like bloodhounds to kill and now obey him like puppets. _

_Last night, with most of our people out on SAR missions to other HABs abroad, the HAB was attacked unawares; but by an amazing stroke of luck, my second-in-command Sergeant Charles Santon, who had somehow gotten wind of the planned attack, had brought back reinforcements from El-ahrairah's warren for a surprise counter attack, so the HAB wasn't taken under Hemlock's control. Hemlock managed to escape with some of his minions, but the beautiful Laurel, many loyal rabbits of El-ahrairah's Owsla, who were younger and weaker in comparison to Hemlock's savage troops, as well as several of our people were killed. Before Laurel succumbed to her injuries and died, she warmed us that Hemlock has waged war against humanity, for a global takeover. _

_After we buried our dead and treated our wounded, we agreed that Hemlock's attempt to capture the HAB mustn't be repeated, or the consequences would be disastrous. Therefore, it has been decided that our national treasures and records of knowledge must be shipped away to secret overseas locations for safekeeping. Furthermore, the HAB has been declared off-limits to the lagomorphs, excluding El-ahrairah alone; it is a drastic measure, severely bruising the trust and friendship between the two species, but the possibility of Hemlock using a spy to exploit our knowledge and machines is too dangerous to risk."_

Alan turned to Josie and Hotdog and found them both looking utterly shocked; Josie had her hands clapped over her mouth in horror, while Hotdog had his hands balled into fists of fury. Alan too, although relieved to learn that Drake had survived Hemlock's attack this time round, was saddened to see that humanity's chances for a peaceful future apparently hadn't turned out good after all. Despite their attempts to change the past, by removing Sven out of the picture, it seemed they had only postponed the inevitable. Staring back at the screen, he found several more entries on the list, up to the year 2049, eight years further than the original log. He activated the next clip from 2042.

"_It has been over two years since we returned to the surface of the Earth. Our reforestation and animal recloning projects are proving to be an enormous success; vegetation is thriving all over the British Isles and we have also sent further expeditions to Europe, Africa and even the United States, to extend the replanting of the terrestrial flora and to release more animals, cloned back into existence, back into the wild, rebuilding our old biosphere. _

_After Hemlock went into hiding with his minions, we heard no more of him. Nonetheless, we remain on constant alert for any further acts of aggression. Meanwhile, our SAR missions have returned with some 700 survivors from the HABs in France, Algeria, South Africa, Germany, Austria, Australia, and the United States. The rest of the HABs have been found deserted and many in ruins, with all their inhabitants long dead, but their treasures salvageable. As it turned out, most of the overseas HABs didn't survive the fallout, or their life support systems failed before the atmosphere had cleared, consequently dooming all of their inhabitants. _

_The survivors have been brought back for treatment, along with their remaining livestock and supplies, so we can make plans for our future as a single large community stationed on the British Isles. The national treasures of all the HAB have also been salvaged and transported to our secret overseas vault for safekeeping, until we can rebuild." _

Alan, Hotdog and Josie stared at each other in with surprise at this new development; so there _were_ more survivors left around the world! Did this mean that, maybe some human civilisation had survived out there somewhere, this far into the future? Perhaps humanity hadn't been completely eradicated this time round? Maybe some new civilisation had been reborn out there? He activated the next clip from 2043, which instantly shattered his hopes.

"_Unfortunately, the threat of Hemlock is only turning out to be the least of our worries; although the Earth is thriving again, the impact has caused an unforeseen disruption the atmospheric cycle, as a result triggering an catastrophic chain reaction, which will ultimately lead to a new Ice Age, until the climate has fully restabilised. Adding Hemlock's threat of war against humanity, many of our people are considering evacuating to the south, while others are even considering evacuating the Earth altogether and joining the space missions that escaped to Apocalypse before the impact with Pandora. _

_A recent observation revealed that the planet didn't leave our solar system and is now circling the sun in an elliptic orbit between Earth and Venus, and apparently thriving. Therefore, a space mission is due to launch sometime next year, in an attempt to reach Apocalypse, which has turned green after circling the sun for the past 15 years, like a sister planet of our Earth, confirming the presence of habitable conditions on its surface. Apparently, that new planet was torn away from its old star millions of years ago and froze in a solar winter, until it reached our sun, and its old vegetation thrived from dormant spores. We even hope to find some human settlements established by the original missions from 2027."_

By now, Alan had realised that the old world was never meant to survive; all evidence showed that the future for Drake and his people had turned out bleak, regardless of everything Alan had done to set it right. He activated the next clip of 2044, to see the outcome of this new space mission.

"_The spaceship Apocalypse II is nearly complete and will be launched sometime soon from Central Africa, carrying a total of 44 people to Apocalypse, in hopes of finding the colonies established by the crew of the Apocalypse I and the other space missions from 2027. Using the nuclear waste of the HAB's reactor, we have been able to harvest enough plutonium to power an experimental nuclear propulsion jet to launch the ship. My son David, the Apocalypse II designer, had also been assigned mission commander. _

_Meanwhile, Hemlock is starting to emerge from the shadows; there are frequent guerrilla attacks on my men and El-ahrairah's people, making it dangerous to venture outside. As a response to the fear caused by Hemlock as well as the upcoming Ice Age, vessels are being fitted out, to evacuate the rest of us to the Southern Hemisphere, to establish a new colony close to the equator, which should remain warm during the Ice Age, as well as safe from Hemlock's army; however, my wife, Santon, myself, and a Russian engineer with a missing hand called Nesv Kotresh, have volunteered to stay behind to help our rabbit friends fight Hemlock, whose threat continues to grow dangerously. Meanwhile, the weather is slowly turning violent, as a premonition of this new disaster still to come…"_

Alan felt chills go down his spine, realising that the Drakes and Santon had decided to remain behind and help El-ahrairah and his people defend their home from Hemlock, apparently at their peril. He activated the next clip, from 2045, which only revealed further bad news.

"_The Apocalypse II has failed. Due to some unknown malfunction, the spacecraft exploded and was vaporized upon leaving Earth's orbit, with all hands. El-ahrairah and his people are my only source of comfort and that of my wife's ever since the death of our son and so many other people I had gotten to know so well over the years. The last convoy to the South departs today, despite the risks of the violent hurricanes and storms that are building over the oceans around the world, as a premonition to the approaching Ice Age. Despite my protests, they have decided to take their chances and make the journey, desperate to escape Hemlock. Meanwhile, the HAB has been stripped of its last remaining resources in preparation for the exodus, including the mainframe computer that controls the life support system, which was sacrificed for the Apocalypse II. Consequently, although the HAB can still provide shelter and heat needed to survive the Ice Age, our underground greenhouse that functioned on computer-controlled artificial light, is now useless, restricting us to a limited supply of perishables, for the duration of the deep freeze to come." _

This was it! The end for the Drakes and Santon was imminent. Although they had survived Hemlock, the Ice Age was too great a challenge. The following clip was from 2046, curious to find out what became of the evacuees.

"_The evacuation has failed; the convoy was struck by a super-storm caused by the destabilised climate, dragging all ships and aircraft to a watery grave, leaving my group of four as the last surviving members of the human race. Although most of their cargo and supplies, which had been transported to safe havens beforehand, is safely hidden away, waiting for someone to find it and use it to rebuild civilisation, I fear it will never come to pass. Those massive vaults, hidden in secret locations around the world, will probably remain lost time capsules of our doomed race. In light of our imminent extinction, I have decided to unofficially declare the Four Brothers as heirs of humanity's legacy: the legacies of life, knowledge, wealth and warfare have each been bestowed upon Laurel, El-ahrairah, Rubscuttle and Hemlock respectively, as my final gift to them. _

"_The Ice Age is expected to begin sometime in mid 2047. As we wait and prepare for the inevitable, I am recording all the details of my adventures and the information on the new world I created in my journal, in hopes that some future explorer will discover it someday and use it wisely. Although I now live everyday as if it were my last, alongside El-ahrairah and his people, I have no regrets of the creatures I brought into existence, which now dominate the world. My wife, Santon, and Nesv also feel the same way."_

Alan couldn't help but smile, realising that Drake had finally found the happiness he had rightfully earned among El-ahrairah's people; the lagomorphs of the future had accepted him as one of them, just like they had done with him. But then, how come humans were seen as threats to this day, if Drake and his people had been accepted among El-ahrairah's tribe? Perhaps Hemlock had done something that had ultimately ruined the truce? The answer was waiting in the following clip from 2047.

"_It's all over; everything we have worked so hard to achieve has been ruined. Nesv Kotresh, who was revealed to be the fugitive terrorist Sven Shertok all along, betrayed us, and with his new master, Hemlock initiated their plans to destroy El-ahrairah's people. The warren was attacked and my adoptive son and creation, was killed in battle. A large portion of Hemlock's forces turned out to be the now-grown mutated children that had gone missing a few years ago, during his first siege. To our utmost horror, we found that each of these individuals had their vortex mutilated, rendering them all mute as well as incapable of learning due to their mental disabilities, like feral children. Hemlock had, in essence, 'created' a new race of primitive humans, trained as killer hounds against us! _

_As if things couldn't get worse, Rubscuttle, now Rubscuttle-rah, and the others blame us for this tragedy. We have been banished from their warren and our treaty for peaceful alliance has been terminated. Ironically, we learned Hemlock killed Sven after his usefulness expired, but it is already too late to make amend our relationship with the lagomorphs. Whether or not Hemlock's heirs will prevail and enslave El-ahrairah's people, I don't know, neither do I care any longer; it concerns someone other than myself. The Ice Age will be upon us within the next few weeks. The beginning of the end has started…again."_

Alan, Josie and Hotdog stared at this entry with heavy hearts. They had successfully prevented Drake's murder, only to let him experience another grim fate. Hemlock's ultimate destruction of humanity's peaceful coexistence with the lagomorphs hadn't been prevented; it had merely been _postponed_. Alan cursed himself for assuming that the threat of Sven had been eliminated from the equation, simply by exposing him and cutting off his hand. The final entry from 2049 was a postscript to Drake's visual log, recording the end of humanity.

"_The Ice Age has been upon us for 18 months now. All green vegetation in the Northern Hemisphere is gone and the temperature has dropped to –50 degrees Celsius, the equivalent of polar temperatures. Rubscuttle bluntly refused my offer for shelter in the HAB, despite his people's suffering and eventually died of starvation in 2048. The remainder of El-ahrairah's people have scattered and their fate remains unknown. It is only my wife, Santon, and me that are now living underground again, our days to live numbered. Meanwhile, the killer cold persists above ground, although we are certain that it will have receded by the mid-23rd century, when the climate imbalance is finally corrected. Most likely, the new climate will be warmer that the old one, due to the changed gas concentration in the atmosphere. _

_Hemlock and El-ahrairah's people are still out there, starving, freezing and probably still fighting amongst themselves, but we can't do anything for either of them as both sides see us as their enemies now. Meanwhile, as we anticipated earlier, we are dying. We have no way of creating food and our stockpiles are quickly diminishing, giving us only a few more weeks to live. However, to spare us the terrible ordeal of starvation, we have decided to take our own lives instead; an old mutiny-control system installed by our long-forgotten government in the HAB's ventilation system, should guarantee us a quick and painless death. _

_After I have finished this postscript, I will seal this visual log in my time capsule along with all my papers, in hopes that some future explorer will find it someday and use it to revive the friendship we once shared with the lagomorphs. This is Sir Cole Drake, creator of the new world, aged 75, signing off. To however finds this log, beware of Hemlock and his descendants! Farewell and good luck!" _Then the playback ended.

Alan turned to his companions and saw they were all thinking the same thing; that last message left behind by Drake was a massage to _them_, asking them to overthrow Woundwort and restore the peace between humans and rabbits, so the two species could share the new world together. Suddenly, a surprised voice was heard behind them, making them all jump in alarm, "FRITH OF INLE, IS THAT _YOU_ ALAN? NO, YOU'RE DEAD!"

Turning round in surprise, Alan saw a rabbit standing in the doorway; it was Speedwell, looking battered and bruised, but very much alive, "Speedwell! I can't tell you how glad I am to see you old chap!" he replied, approaching the dumbstruck rabbit to hug him. Speedwell's shock instantly turned to joy.

"I don't believe it! By Frith, how did you make it? The day after you left, those bloody Efrafans showed up again and seized the warren! They killed Acorn…They said you had all been killed trying to infiltrate Efrafa. Where are Hazel and the others? Are they…?" His voice trailed off, expecting to hear the worst. But Alan shook his head reassuringly.

"Relax old boy, Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, Pipkin and Hawkbit and I escaped unharmed and undertook the greatest journey you can imagine… But I am afraid it's kind of a long story that will have to wait for later. Now, are there any others down here with you?"

"Yes, Violet and Strawberry are also here, trapped in another chamber in the flooded section. The Efrafans didn't have enough prisoner escort guards for all of us, so they had the three of us locked up down here and left us to die, and took the others away. I have been looking in vain for another way out for days now… By Frith, you, ithe, are nothing short of Frith's Messenger himself…!"

"What about Derek and the Efrafan does we sent back here? Did they make it?" Alan asked, desperate for more information. Speedwell explained.

"The day after you set off for Efrafa, Derek returned with the does and Cowslip's mystic Silverweed. By Frith, Strawberry and I were so embarrassed for beating the hraka out of him, when we mistook him for a spy. I still can't believe he actually decided to desert Cowslip…! The does, along with Clover, Silverweed, Hawkbit, Dandelion and that Efrafan deserter were captured and taken back to Efrafa. Derek had left to retrieve the balloon, so he probably escaped capture…maybe. I don't know where he is now… But where in Frith's name have you been? And who are these two?" he asked, spotting Josie and Hotdog, who were complete strangers to him.

After brief introductions were made, the lanky rabbit led them out of the control room, into the depths of the facility, where the rest of their friends were locked up. Unbeknownst to any of them however, an unseen figure, who had been listening from his hiding place under the stairs, noiselessly emerged, following them from a safe distance, brandishing his revolver as he went, making sure he wasn't seen or heard, strategising in his mind the perfect moment to strike…

Author's note: Behold the new future! For those of you that are confused, it was Santon who thwarted Hemlock's murder of Drake, using his knowledge of the future. As for Sven, he had fled after being declared a fugitive, changed his appearance with plastic surgery and assumed a new name. When the asteroid crisis came, he was among the people selected for another HAB and managed to survive. Later, he was picked up by Drake's people and brought back to England, where he formed an alliance with Hemlock, without knowing he would be killed someday. Enjoy and please review!


	46. Chapter 46 Back Where We Left Off

Speedwell led Alan, Josie and Hotdog down the dimly lit corridors of the HAB, towards 'the chamber of the shiny cages', where Robbins and the Efrafans had locked up their captured companions and left them to die. As they moved along, Speedwell updated Alan on everything that had happened after his party had left for Efrafa.

The day after they had left, Derek had returned with the Efrafan does, Silverweed and Blackavar, and reported that the rest of the expedition were stranded back at Efrafa and that he would be returning to get them. After collecting a fresh supply of propane from the HAB for the balloon, he had left on horseback to return to the landing site, a good distance away, promising to return with the others shortly. But Derek had never returned and the following morning Woundwort attacked the Down in earnest. After a brief battle, the warren had been captured and they were all taken prisoner. Acorn had been killed during the fight.

Hawkbit, Dandelion, Clover, Nildrohein and Blackavar had been dragged off to Efrafa, while the rest, due to the lack of guards, were instead buried alive in the 'man-burrow' and left to die. On Woundwort's orders, Robbins had locked them in the disused HAB's livestock cages, so they wouldn't be able to somehow find another way out. To seal their fate, he had then sabotaged the sealed sub entry, causing the facility to start flooding like an aquarium, to drown them. It was only then that he realised that Woundwort had sealed him in too, to share their fate.

Speedwell, who had managed to slip away, but was also trapped in the HAB, had fled to the upper levels but Robbins had been trapped in a submerged section and not seen again. For three days, he had waited beside the cage where his friends were locked up, unable to help them or even save himself, desperately hoping that someone would come for them, until he had heard Alan's voice and realised that his prayers for rescue had been answered. As Alan had expected, Speedwell had absolutely no recollection of Project Black Inferno or his 'death', the catastrophe never having occurred this time round.

By this time, Alan had become aware of further changes that had taken place in this new timeline: on their previous visit, the facility had been fully stocked with supplies and equipment, which had never been used. Now, although the facility itself remained well preserved, the place was thoroughly stripped of all its treasures. The dormitories were stripped down to bare bed frames, the lockers empty. The machine shops and laboratory were likewise empty, save for some piles of insignificant junk, as well as all the storerooms. Just like mentioned in Drake's new log, the fleeing colonists had taken all of the HAB's resources with them, leaving a stripped facility behind.

The sight of the museum, which now consisted of little more than empty glass cabinets, made Alan sigh in regret; he had had many fantasies of using all those old relics to teach his rabbit friends the history of the human world. All the majestic artworks, antiquities he had glimpsed on his last visit were missing, probably lost forever on some far corner of the world. However, several sections, including Mineralogy and Natural History, the miniature model section, as well as portions of the War and Technology sections, which only held exhibits of little or no value, remained.

Passing through the museum, Alan also noticed several artefacts that hadn't been there last time, testifying to the altered timeline. In the Technology section, he spotted the ascend stage of Project Black Inferno that had dropped into the Atlantic after lift-off and salvaged, just like Santon had told him, as well as the wreck of their Cessna, which they had left behind.

In the waxwork gallery, which only had the waxworks of the Four Brothers, Drake, and Alan remaining, he noticed some further changes; this time round, his likeness was dressed in a marine's uniform, with a George's Cross for 'outstanding bravery on behalf of the British nation in 2013', pinned to his jacket. He smiled; this time, rather than been remembered as a murderous psychopath, his efforts to bring down the Red Hand Brotherhood had been acknowledged and respected.

Suddenly, as Speedwell led them towards the stairwell that led down to the HAB's zoo on Level 3, their temporarily good luck of encountering no trouble finally run out. As they were walking down the waxwork aisle, Alan suddenly heard the cocking mechanism of a pistol clicking in the shadows behind them.

"EVERYBODY DOWN!" he shouted, pulling Josie and Speedwell to the floor, just as a bullet sailed over their heads, shattering a nearby glass cabinet. They all ducked for cover.

"So, returned to seal your fate, have you Johnson?" called an all-too-familiar sneering voice, as their attacker came into view, brandishing his revolver as he went. It was Robbins, who had apparently made it out of his entrapment and caught up with them, "I know you're here; no use prolonging this!"

Alan felt bile start to boil in his throat as he caught site of his nemesis standing alive before them, an insane gleam in his eyes, carefully scanning every inch of the room for them. Alan noticed that Robbins now had his eyes intact and the bullet wound in his arm had vanished. Only the old scratches from the hawk attack remained, indicating that their confrontation at Efrafa in the previous timeline had never occurred this time round. Then he realised Hotdog was no longer with them, "Where the hell's Hotdog?"

"I don't know; I think he wondered off as we were passing through here," Josie whispered in reply. Alan silently cursed for not having noticed Hotdog's absence, who had been following right behind and apparently been attacked by Robbins while he had been listening to Speedwell. Carefully watching his nemesis scan every inch of the room for signs of movement or sound, he whispered to his friends, who were crouching beside him, "Josie, you and Speedwell crawl towards the door and lock it behind you. Free the others fast and get them all back to the shaft. I'll cover your backs. Go!"

"Alan, that psychopath will kill you! Didn't you see that insane gleam in his eyes?" Josie protested, softly grabbing Alan's arm.

"It's all right, I can hold out in a man-to-man fight, even with a raving psychotic like him. No arguments now, just get out of here while I keep him busy!" he whispered, crawling towards the opposite direction, to create a distraction. Taking cover behind an old ship's cannon at the far end of the gallery, he whistled at Robbins, who instantly spun round and fired; it harmlessly bounced off the solid iron cylinder. Not wasting his chance, Alan returned fire but Robbins had already leapt behind the hulk of an old dynamo for cover. Quickly ducking behind the row of waxworks for cover, the two opponents continued exchanging fire. Soon Alan had used the last bullet in his Colt, while Robbins, who had a better handgun, still had enough rounds left to blow his head off.

"Oops, looks like I missed my target," Robbins sneered as he fired another shot at Alan, only to hit the waxwork of Drake and causing the face to shatter and crumble to pieces. "How ironic; that mad scientist surrendered humanity to these talking rabbits, and now gets shot like one. Fitting really, for that pitiful animal lover."

Alan wanted nothing better than to seize Robbins by the throat and wring his neck for insulting Drake's memory, but he knew it a trap, a temptation for him to break his cover and get killed. As he continued dodging Robbins' shots in an attempt to force him to use up his remaining ammunition, all the while counting in the back of his head how many rounds his opponent had left, he saw Speedwell suddenly duck behind the waxworks beside him. "What the hell are you doing here? I told you to lead Josie to the others and get out of here!" he hissed at the buck, who took no notice, as he too glared at Robbins, waiting for him to make his next move.

Catching a glimpse of them, Robbins fired another shot in Speedwell's direction, only to hit the waxwork of El-ahrairah and causing an ear to chip off, "Oops, looks like the icon of Dr Drake's masterpiece has just been wasted, just like its real life counterpart!" the evil man said gleefully, sneering at the now disfigured waxwork. Unfortunately, these last lines broke the camel's back and Speedwell, in a fit of rage at the desecration of El-ahrairah's likeness, sprang from his hiding place, going straight for Robbins. Alan yelled after him, "Speedwell, no! He'll kill you!" but it was too late.

In an instant, Robbins turned his revolver on Speedwell; Alan saw a flash, followed by a bang and then the red smear of a bullet wound appear on Speedwell's back, as the bullet punctured a hole straight through the buck's upper torso. The brave Owsla veteran instantly crumpled to the ground at Robbins' feet, moaning in agony and bleeding out.

In that second of distraction, Alan also sprang at Robbins and seized his wrist from where he held the revolver. Banging his hand against a solid glass case, he knocked the revolver out of Robbins' bleeding fingers and kicked it away into the shadows. Now evenly matched, the two men were instantly caught in a furious fight, using anything they could find in the museum as weapons. Out of the corner of his eye, Alan saw Josie pull the injured Speedwell to safety behind another case, as the two men continued exchanging wild blows.

"Well, I've got to hand it to you Johnson; you're one real nuisance, with more lives than a bloody cat! So it _was_ you who had destroyed Project Black Inferno all along! But it is of little consequence," Robbins sneered as he seized a bayonet from a nearby display cabinet. "That fool Woundwort accepted my 'gift' of nitroglycerine I found in your hideout and took it back to Efrafa. That ignorant fool thought he'd double-cross me and leave me down here to die; he doesn't even realise that I rigged the canisters with lighting conductors that will detonate with the next storm, blowing him, his army, and your furry friends into oblivion, while I return home victorious!" he sneered, gesturing at a bulging sack hanging over his shoulder. Alan seized a rusty sword from the cabinet and returned Robbins' blows.

"You'll find there is no longer any reward money waiting for you back home; only an arrest warrant with your name on it, a one-way ticket to a prison for the criminally insane, that I personally booked for you!" he growled as he brushed away another stab from the bayonet, returning it with a stab of his own, which Robbins narrowly dodged. Despite being an experienced swordsman, Robbins seemed to be just as much a professional as Alan, apparently having received some serious combat training while in Sergey's ranks. The evil man's sneer turned to an ugly glare.

"A minor problem; in fact, it suites me better this way. No Johnson, after I've ripped your guts out and watched that overgrown oaf Woundwort blow himself and your little friends to bits with his own folly, I will be returning home with a bounty worth much more that Project Black Inferno. I will have all the money to buy my immunity from the law and then finance a return expedition, bringing back every wealthy hunter and industrialist on the planet. I'll soon be the filthy rich sole owner of the largest enterprise in the world, while you will be dead and buried!" He laughed maniacally, giving Alan his chance; with one swift move, he brushed the exposed bayonet aside with his sword, before delivering a powerful right hook straight into Robbins' surprised face.

Robbins' nose burst like a ripe tomato, the blow sending him flying backwards onto the dusty floor. He crumpled to the ground in a heap but then suddenly spun round, his retrieved revolver back in his hand, aiming directly at Alan. His bleeding face formed into a sickening smile, as he got back to his feet, aiming the gun directly at Alan, "Your time is finally up Johnson! Any last words?" Alan was about to give himself up for lost, when he suddenly caught sight of a familiar dark-skinned fellow with a baseball bat sneak up on Robbins from behind.

"Actually yes… Robbins, care for a _Hotdog_ with fiery-hot mustard?" The evil man stared at him like an idiot before bursting out laughing; his laugh froze as he suddenly felt someone tap him sharply on the shoulder. He spun round, just in time to see Hotdog's baseball bat swing at his head, before the man sunk to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Hotdog towered over Robbins' fallen form, a mixture of satisfaction and mustard-hot fury written on his face, as he tapped his knuckles with the bat. Alan noticed Hotdog now had a strange lump growing out the top of his head.

"Dirty bastard snuck up on me and clubbed me when I wasn't looking, and took my ammunition," Hotdog growled softly, kicking Robbins in the shins. Alan's first thought was that the man on the floor would now need a coffin after being struck on the head with such force, yet that wasn't to be the case, as they heard him groan at Hotdog's kick. Robbins' hair was soaked in blood from a gaping wound, yet was miraculously still alive. Then Alan saw the strange sack the evil man had been carrying.

Opening it, he saw several newborn giant rabbit kittens curled up inside. They were very young, with hardly any fur and their eyes still shut. Alan's heart melted as he realised they had to be Violet's newborn litter. While Hotdog disarmed Robbins and duct-taped him up, Alan carefully picked up the kittens and run to Josie, who was tending to Speedwell.

"How bad is he?" he asked, as he stared at the bullet hole on the left side of the buck's chest, between the third and forth ribs, which was oozing out blood. Speedwell was only semiconscious by now, his breathing laboured and weak. Although still alive, the gaping bullet wound on his torso told Alan it wasn't good.

"He's got severe internal bleeding in the left lung," Josie replied, struggling to control the bleeding with a towel, "At least it didn't get his heart, otherwise he'd be dead already." These words alone confirmed to Alan that Speedwell would probably not recover. Gently wrapping up the kittens in his jacket to keep them warm, he laid them down beside Josie.

"All right, do what you can for him and also check these little chaps for dehydration. Hotdog, you stay here and make sure that miserable sack of dirt on the floor," he gestured at Robbins' bleeding and immobilised form, "stays put. If he moves, or so much as utters a syllable, use that bat of yours and bash his brains out, for all it's worth! I am going below to find the others." Without another word, he rushed towards the door that led to the stairwell and climbed down to Level 3, to the animal pens.

This level was partially submerged, with the water at waist height. Shining his flashlight around the semi-flooded, dimly lit chamber, he saw several rows of cages, pens and aquarium tanks of all sizes, stacked on top of each other. Catwalks that were once used to reach the higher cages stood against each rows. Like all chambers of the HAB, this underground zoo seemed to go on forever, yet was completely empty, all the animals having gone long ago, just like the people. Now the only sound that could be heard was the churning water caused by Alan's footsteps, which was infested with old straw and paper pulp bedding as well as many animal bones that had been washed out of their cages when the chamber had been flooded.

"Hallo?" Alan called out, searching for any signs of life, "Violet? Strawberry? Anybody here?" He was just about to turn round and leave, thinking that he was searching in the wrong place, when he heard a raspy voice coming from one of the larger cages in the back, "Help, over here!" Alan was overjoyed as he recognised the voice of Strawberry calling to him.

Following the direction of the voice, he came to a locked cage, half-submerged in the muddy water. And inside, battered, exhausted and covered in water sores, were Strawberry and Violet. At the sight of Alan, the ginger buck gasped as if he was seeing a ghost. Obviously, like Speedwell, he too believed Alan and the others to have been killed at Efrafa.

"_Alan_? But… It can't be! No, I am delirious!" The ginger-furred buck was lying on his side in the empty manger of the swamped cage, keeping most of his body out of the water, his left hind leg looking badly swollen at the thigh, indicating a possible fracture. Although he didn't seem to have suffered any serious injuries, he looked extremely weak and seemed to have lost several pounds after being trapped in that cage for four days without food. Violet lay beside him, looking the worst, barely conscious and with a nasty looking cut down her side, which was turning black with infection.

Alan rushed up to the cage where Strawberry crawled up to the bars to nuzzle Alan's hand, overjoyed to see him. Examining the locking mechanism, he found it was a simple draw-bolt, easy to unlock for him but not for the rabbits, which couldn't get a grip on it without hands. In a moment, they were free.

Bending over Strawberry to examine his leg, he found a dislocation right above the epiphysis; not severe enough to cause any permanent disability, but enough to impair his walking for a while. Giving Strawberry a warning that it would hurt, he suddenly grabbed hold of the limb and straightened it out, pumping the loose joint back in its socket. After Strawberry's screams of pain had died down, he took off his belt, fashioning a tourniquet to set the buck's injured leg, so he could limp along, until Josie could take a better look at it. Turning to Violet, he saw the deep cut on her side was actually a knife slash, undoubtedly inflicted by Robbins when he had forcefully snatched away her kittens for his bounty; an act that had ironically resulted in him being trapped down here. Although luckily not fatal, the infection looked pretty bad, with the doe suffering a high fever that kept her unconscious, in addition to the mental trauma she had undoubtedly suffered by having her litter snatched away.

"Will she be all right? I tried cleaning it up, but she still won't wake," Strawberry said worryingly, as Alan, having finished checking Violet for further injuries, gently picked up the semiconscious doe over his shoulders, keeping a handkerchief pressed over the cut to control the bleeding.

"Don't worry, she'll be fine and you'll also be good as new within a few days," he said encouragingly to the chubby buck as he helped him stand with one hand. "Now, try not to put too much weight on that leg; focus your weight on your three good legs.

Gently carrying Violet in his arms, Alan led the way back up to the museum, where Josie and Hotdog were waiting with Speedwell and the kittens. Although Josie had patched him up, the ugly swelling caused by the internal bleeding was worsening, the buck's lungs slowly filling with blood. The kittens on the other hand looked completely fine, as they peacefully lay curled up in Alan's jacket. Alan gently laid their unconscious mother beside them so Josie could examine the injured doe.

"Septicaemia no doubt but luckily not in the advanced stages; she'll need a large dose of penicillin as well as a few stitches for the cut. By God, is that maniac taking to knifing does as well, to steal their young?" she spat, glaring at Robbins, who had regained consciousness by now, with an expression of utmost hatred. Alan remembered how she had a soft spot for animals and hated animal abuse as much as he did. The evil man only sneered nastily in return, unable to do anything more while bound, and with Hotdog standing guard over him with his baseball bat at the ready.

Alan watched as Josie injected Violet with a shot of penicillin and a mild painkiller to apply the stitches, while muttering threats about animal abusers. "Is there anything we can do to help? The others up top will be wondering what's taking us so long…"

"We'll need a stretcher to move Speedwell out of here," Josie said, "He can't be moved otherwise, not with such heavy internal bleeding." Alan stood up, "All right, Hotdog and I will go find that stretcher. I have seen an infirmary down here where we can find one. Also, we'll take care of this scum while we're at it," he said, pointing at Robbins. Hotdog grinned evilly, as he tapped his knuckles with his baseball bat, eager to use it again.

"Are you going to kill him are you?" Josie asked, recoiling slightly. Obviously, she thought the two men intended to take Robbins someplace private, to slit his gullet or something. Alan considered for a moment; despite his desire to subject Robbins to a painful death for what he had done to Speedwell, the idea of cold-blooded murder didn't appeal to him at the moment. Besides, there was still the mystery with Lucy he wanted answers to…

"No, we won't kill him…yet. We'll just lock him up someplace safe, where he can't cause any further trouble. Come on Hotdog, let's get to it." Standing up Robbins' bound form, they marched him out of the museum, down dusty corridors, heading towards the HAB's infirmary. As they turned a corner, the found the passageway to the infirmary blocked by a cave-in.

"All right, we have to find another way around," Alan said, examining a diagram of the facility nailed to the wall. "Let's try through there," he said pointing at a fire escape door.

Entering, they found themselves in the familiar HAB's library; however, in this new timeline the room hadn't been incinerated and the cremated remains of the dead inhabitants had disappeared. Aside from a thin layer of dust, all the stainless steel bookcases and cabinets stood completely intact, but empty, confirming what had been said in Drake's log, that the colonists had removed everything, so Hemlock and his followers would never seize and exploit all this knowledge. Only HAL's screen still stood undisturbed in the centre of the room. As they approached it, the artificial intelligence sprang to life, having sensed the presence of visitors.

"_Welcome to HAL System. May I be of assistance? Good evening Dr Johnson, is there anything I can do for you? Be aware, Mr Robbins has suffered a mild concussion and has a considerable amount of bleeding. Prompt medical attention is highly recommended…"_

"Which is the way to the infirmary, HAL?" Alan asked, as Hotdog whistled aloud at the sight of the hi-tech artificial librarian. _"Use the main entrance into the central corridor; the infirmary is right opposite the library. Will there be anything else?"_

"Is your memory core still intact and fully operational?" Alan asked, remembering that HAL's database housed electrical records of all human knowledge, up to the point of humanity's extinction. Perhaps these records had been overlooked and survived the clearing-out of the HAB? His heart sank as the librarian spoke again, confirming his worst thoughts.

"_My power supply and processor are functioning 100%, as well as all my automated scientific simulators, data receptors, temporary memory bank, and satellite uplinks. Unfortunately, my entire database was permanently locked by Dr Drake in 2049, shortly before he and his companions committed suicide. They said it was to prevent Lord Hemlock's descendants from finding and exploiting it at a later date. And indeed, it would have come to pass only three days ago when General Woundwort stormed the HAB, demanding that I surrender all my secrets to him. Fortunately, I had non to give." _Alan breathed a sigh of relief; Drake's wise move had prevented Woundwort from seizing any dangerous knowledge for his own evil ends_. _

"_I could however, create a new database from another data source, if made available,"_ HAL went on speaking. Alan's mind instantly turned to the drive he had prepared back in his apartment; they had a replacement for HAL's database right in their hands! Although it would definitely be a bit obsolete compared to the original database, the drive still everything they might need. Combined with HAL's processing capabilities, they would soon have one very useful asset at their disposal. However, this wasn't the right time to make plans for future education. Alan turned back to HAL, "Is there a holding cell or someplace secure we can lock this one up?" he asked, gesturing at Robbins.

"_The holding cell was never completed as it was never thought likely to be put to use. I recommend the library vault room; it is armoured but ventilated in the event of accidental lock-ins."_ Alan smiled grimly; the library's vault room would make a fine temporary holding cell. Staring in the direction of the librarian's empty desk, he spotted an armoured door, which was the entrance to the vault. He turned to Hotdog, "Help me get this mongrel inside."

They dragged Robbins over to the vault door, which stood ajar, and pulled it open; a small room, about 20 square feet, lined with shelves and cabinets for the most precious artefacts of the library, now all empty, met their eyes. Although the vault lock didn't work, the steel door couldn't be opened from the inside, and the walls were lined with solid concrete, outruling the possibility of escape.

Grinning evilly, the two men lifted up Robbins and tossed him headfirst into the empty vault, which had just become his prison until they could decide what to do with him. By this time, Robbins was struggling furiously against his binds, but to no avail. As he turned round to give them a murderous glare, Alan fixed him with a cold stare.

"We're going to give you a few hours of solitary confinement, so you may reflect on everything you've done: the murder of Miles and my wife, the kidnapping my daughter, and what you did to Violet and Speedwell. And bear in mind, the only reason we won't be leaving you sealed in there to die, is because I don't think my friends would have wanted me to sink to your level. Personally, I don't believe bastards like you can ever be reformed; perhaps you will prove me wrong, if you wish to keep your miserable life once we've sorted out the mess you've caused us." Without another word, they slammed the door shut on Robbins' face and the evil man was engulfed in total darkness, save a small slit of light coming from an observation window in the vault door.

With Robbins safely locked up, they exited the library and hurried to the infirmary. The place was just as Alan remembered it from the previous timeline, except that most of the medical supplies and equipment were now missing. Alan and Hotdog started ravaging through all the cabinets, searching for a stretcher. It didn't take them long to find one sitting in a corner behind some empty oxygen cylinders. Hurryingly picking it up from either end, they returned to the atrium and took a shortcut back to the museum.

They found Speedwell in critical condition, barely holding onto life. Violet, on the other hand, had regained consciousness after Josie had treated her injuries, her fever quickly receding. She now sat by her kittens, keeping them company, while Josie tended to Speedwell and Strawberry. As Alan placed the stretcher on the floor beside Speedwell, the doe gently nuzzled her head against his elbow, muttering, "Thank you." Alan smiled, seeing how Violet who had initially distrusted him, now finally saw him as a friend, looking completely unbothered of him being close to her kittens.

Using extreme caution, they hoisted Speedwell onto the stretcher and strapped him in. Then the two men lifted the stretcher up and the group marched back towards the shaft. Carefully keeping the stretcher above their heads to keep Speedwell dry, they strode down the flooded corridor and into the elevator shaft. Josie followed, carrying the jacket with Violet's kittens in her arms, while Violet helped Strawberry limp along.

They sent Hotdog up the rope first so they could have a strong man to pull Speedwell's stretcher up with the pulley and the rest of the rabbits, which couldn't climb, in a canvas sling. Carefully attaching the stretcher to the end of the rope, Hotdog hoisted it up, before sending the rope down again for the others. In a few minutes, Violet, her kittens and Strawberry were safely out, followed by Alan and Josie.

The rabbits' surprise of seeing their lost friends alive again was beyond imagination, but their joy was short-lived when they realised Speedwell's condition. Despite the fact that his chances of survival were slim, they placed him in one of the best ventilated burrows making him as comfortable as possible, using their blankets from the plane. After Violet and Strawberry were given some food and water to recover their strength, they settled down to rest with Lucy keeping them company, while the rest of the group made plans outside.

Alan wasted no time in informing them of what had happened down below and about Robbins; Bigwig was furious that Alan hadn't finished him off and be done with him for good, especially after he saw what had happened to Speedwell, but Hazel and Fiver cut him off, agreeing that Alan's decision to spare Robbins had been the right one. After Alan had told them of the changes that had occurred due to their temptation with time, they returned to the more pressing matter: how to infiltrate Efrafa.

"This time, we'll use the log bridge; we have enough firepower to _fight_ our way through, should we encounter any trouble. Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, Hawkbit and I will go; Josie, Lucy and Pipkin can stay here to look after the wounded. Hotdog can also stay, to repair the plane; we might need it to escape from Efrafa, should things get out of hand again. We'll make our way to Buxton Hall to rescue McEwen's group first and then storm the warren for the others. In the unlikely event that we can't make it back to the bridge, we can signal by radio and Hotdog can pick us up by plane instead."

"All right, then let's get started. Owsla, attention!" Bigwig ordered, as the rescue party assembled for orders. Alan went back into the Honeycomb to collect his arsenal, while Josie packed some food, water and first aid for her husband and the other survivors. Alan handed her a walkie-talkie to maintain communication, while he kept the second one.

"All right, we're ready. Now remember: Robbins is safely locked up down below but we're not taking any chances. Nobody is to go down there for any reason whatsoever and make sure the rope is not lowered at any time. He doesn't come out and nobody goes anywhere near him. No exceptions. Also, I want you and Hotdog to keep your guns loaded and by your side at all times, in case of any unexpected surprises in our absence. Understood?"

"Very well, I'll see to it," Josie replied, "You just be careful. Make sure you all get back safely." Just as he was about to join the rest of the group, she called him back, "Alan, wait." As the man turned round, she placed her husband's silver lighter in his hand, "Return this to James; it is his talisman when on active duty." She kissed his cheek and returned to tending to the injured.

Alan, Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver and Hawkbit descended the southern side of Watership Down, following the trail of enemy scent along the side of the canyon, heading towards Efrafa on foot. The faint sound of thunder coming from the approaching black clouds on the eastern horizon, warning them of an approaching storm, made Alan feel uneasy, remembering the three pipe bombs Robbins had tricked Woundwort into taking back to Efrafa as bounty. All of them were so worried in fact, that they didn't notice a stranger in an Air Force uniform appear out of the woods behind them, heading in the opposite direction, towards Watership Down.

After the rescue party had set off, Josie returned to her patients, all of which were recovering well, except for Speedwell. Although temporally stabilised, the buck had lost a lot of blood and was struggling to breathe from his punctured lung, as he lay semiconscious, growing weaker and weaker by the minute. The others sat around the dying buck watching him with heavy hearts. Although it was clear that nothing more could be done to help him, they didn't want to leave him alone as he slowly succumbed to his injury.

Violet and Pipkin were crying softly, while Strawberry and Josie looked on with miserable expressions, as they all sat watching Speedwell slowly dying. Violet, in particular, was feeling the worst for Speedwell's condition, remembering how they had been lovers until Bluebell had won her heart, after Speedwell had broken it with his scheme with Buckthorn. Although obviously not her fault, she had always felt guilty for the animosity that had developed between her mate and his cousins.

Lucy was also crying softly but not so much for Speedwell as for her father. Ever since Robbins had kidnapped her, she had held onto the dream of seeing her parents again someday. Then, when her wish had finally come true, she had learned that her mother was dead and now her father had left to fight alongside their new friends, to defend their new home. She vaguely remembered, when her father had been drafted in the Marines during the war, how she and her mother would pray he would return home safely. And indeed he had, with the devastating news that her estranged uncle Royce had perished at sea. Shortly thereafter her uncle Miles had also died, followed by her mother, leaving her father as her only surviving family. What if this time he wouldn't be so lucky?

Josie's mind was also going over the same lines, as she sat grimly, trying to hold back her tears of worry, thinking of Alan as well as of her husband and son. Although overjoyed to learn that her husband was still alive, her heart now felt divided; part of her had hoped that he would be dead so she could freely express her old love for Alan, but now the other half hoped Alan would never return, so she could return to her life without this hard feeling of division. Her son was still missing and had to be found, but on the other hand, Lucy needed her father as well. Out of everyone praying to see their beloved ones return safely, Josie felt completely at a loss as to whom to pray for.

The feeling of sorrow in the burrow was indeed so great that nobody noticed the stranger from the forest suddenly slip into the Honeycomb through the unguarded entrance. Silent as a cat and brandishing a revolver as he went, he stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted the group huddled together in a side burrow, their backs to him. He paused, thinking whether or not to reveal himself but then decided against it, not seeing the person he was looking for among them.

Careful not to draw attention to himself, the intruder crept down the run towards the opening of the shaft. Grabbing hold of the rope, he climbed down into the HAB and began searching every room of the abandoned facility. Captain Max Pete, an outcast fighter pilot of the Royal Air Forces and secret collaborator of Red Hand, had come for his missing comrade, whom he had been sent to retrieve.

Sometime later, Pete, accompanied by a now freed Robbins, emerged from the hole and back into the warren. As they noiselessly crept through the Honeycomb, Robbins spotted one of Violet's kittens that had slipped away from its grieving mother, curiously crawling around the main chamber. Not missing his chance, he quickly and noiselessly snatched the kitten and placed it in his empty haversack, while his companion nicked the nitroglycerine canister from the deserted men's burrow.

They exited the warren, before anyone could realise something was wrong and descended the Down, heading towards the bottom of the canyon, where the Skytruck was moored, awaiting repairs.

Meanwhile, Hotdog, all sweaty and his hands drenched in motor oil, shut the cover on the plane's starboard engine casing. He had spent several hours undoing the damage the grease monkey's sabotage had caused; fortunately, he had only been an amateur saboteur, resorting to draining the oil reservoir, which had caused to engine to overheat, so the damage wasn't irreversible. After changing the oil in both engines, repairing the damaged cabin circuitry and restoring pressurisation, the plane was good as new again. He was just wiping his hands clean on a rag, when he heard footsteps approaching behind him.

"Oh, there you are lassie," he said without turning, thinking it was Josie coming to check on the repairs, "Right on time too; you just give me a moment to have a quick smoke and a coffee, and I'' be on my way to…" His voice stuck in his throat when he suddenly felt the cold blade of a knife pressed hard against his throat as someone grabbed hold of his hair, forcefully tilting his neck back.

"Hallo to you too, Hotdog," spoke a sneering voice in his ear and with a twinge of fear, he saw Robbins' smirking face out of the corner of his eye, "It would be such a shame if you let your tongue slip now; I just might let this knife slip and slit your gullet down to the neck bone. Get the point?" Hotdog nodded, not daring utter a word, knowing he'd instantly be history if he did. Robbins smiled evilly, satisfied by Hotdog's fear.

"Good. Now, when I lower this knife, I suggest you forget about me and instead focus on finding that fused bomb, currently tickling in the depths of the warren. I believe there is a rather large canister of nitro in there, enough to ruin your friends' whole day. It shouldn't be too difficult for a bomb-man like you. Follow me?" Hotdog nodded nervously, about to wet his pants, realising his friends were in great danger and didn't even realise. Or so he thought.

"Splendid. Pete, get us ready for takeoff! We have a little goodbye gift to deliver to Johnson and his friends before we set course for home." Robbins called to his henchman who obeyed. To his utmost relief, Hotdog felt Robbins lower the knife from his throat and release the grip on his hair; no sooner had his intended murderer released him, than he broke into a run, hurrying back towards the warren. Behind him, he heard the plane's engines start up as Pete powered up the aircraft for takeoff. Casting a brief glance over his shoulder, he saw the two associates escaping down the river, using the floatplane as a riverboat, heading towards Efrafa.

Without concerning himself with them, Hotdog broke into a run, scrambling up the hill towards the warren. Where could have Robbins have planted the bomb? Was it on a timer? How much longer before it went off? Perhaps he had killed the others already in revenge? He could feel sweat trickling down his neck in anticipation as he approached the entrance to the Honeycomb. But before he could burst in and shout a warning, he collided with Josie, who was crawling out of the narrow opening, looking alarmed. It was obvious that something bad had happened.

"Robbins has escaped! He's taken one of the kittens! Hotdog, what are you…?" she shouted, brandishing her gun, as if expecting to see Robbins still lurking outside.

"There's a bomb down there! Get everyone out of there now!" Hotdog shouted as he dashed in, his good eye furiously scanning every inch of the chamber for a concealed explosive devise. Hearing the warning, Josie also dashed back in, ushering everyone out.

"Bloody hell, where are you?" Hotdog hissed, as he hastily searched the place from top to bottom, but finding nothing suspicious. Bursting into Derek's quarters, he found the last nitro canister was _missing_, undoubtedly stolen by Robbins and his henchman. Hotdog banged his head against the wall in exasperation. There was no bomb; he had been bluffed, so Robbins could escape in the distraction.

"What a bloody stupid sawdust-for-brains I am!" he cursed, joining the others outside, who were crouched low in the grass, bracing for a supposed explosion, "That lying son of a bitch bluffed me good. Oh, just wait till I get my hands on him, I'll wring his worthless neck!"

They rushed back down to the shore, but of course it was already too late; Robbins and his new associate were long gone by now, with the plane and the nitroglycerine. Only the group's equipment, which Hotdog had unloaded earlier in preparation for transporting evacuees from Efrafa, lay pilled up on the shore. Hotdog's eye lit up when he noticed the dingy from the Cessna still lying at the water's edge. Without another word, he jumped into the liferaft and prepared to cast off.

"Hotdog, what in goodness' name are you doing? You'll never can't catch them in _this_," Josie said, as she saw Hotdog start paddling away. The smuggled turned to smile at her.

"Oh yes I can. I mucked this up and I am not going to sit here and wait for those two rats to sneak up on AJ and the others with a bomb! That ugly dude Robbins said he was going to make a stop at Efrafa to set a death trap for them; I can catch up with them there and retake the plane before they can escape. You stay here and try and warn the others by radio. Tell them, I am on my way!"

Without another word he started paddling furiously downstream, through the thick mist that filled the canyon, following the distant sound of the plane's engines downstream, towards Efrafa. There he hoped to intercept Robbins and his associate before they could escape back to the 21st century, where they would almost certainly sabotage their new world – _Alan's_ new world - to total destruction.

Author's note: More problems for Alan and the WD rabbits. Robbins has escaped and is about to return to the present and ruin everything. Will he be stopped? Coming up next, Alan and his group infiltrate Efrafa and reunite with the rest of the survivors. The battle for the future is imminent! Who will live and who will die? Enjoy and please review so I can update faster!


	47. Chapter 47 Survivors

Alan's party walked alongside the edge of the canyon that separated Woundwort's domain from the outside world; Efrafa was situated right in the middle of the deep fog-engulfed canyon, which had once been a giant fissure torn into the earth by the passing of Apocalypse in 2027, surrounded by cliffs on either side, blocking the way for any intruders or escapees. Alan called a halt.

"All right everyone, look sharp now; the closer we get, the more likely we are to stumble across some sentry. Remember, we need the complete element of surprise, if we're going to pull it off this time." Cautiously, they continued on their way, encountering no trouble until they came to the bridge, or at least where the bridge _used _to be; the Efrafans' tracks suddenly ended on the edge of the cliff. Getting off his horse, Alan bent down for a closer look.

Where the collapsed end of the tree trunk had once been, now there was only an oval-shaped chunk of earth missing from the edge, as if something had eaten away at the cliff. Upon closer inspection, he also saw the ground was scorched and glazed around that spot, as if it had been exposed to intense heat. Bigwig also sniffed out traces of blood that were splattered all over the surrounding vegetation, from quite recently it seemed. In an instant, Alan understood what had happened.

"Nitroglycerine explosion," he muttered grimly, staring at the scorched earth surrounding the edge, "Looks like some porter in Woundwort's Owsla was bomb-vaporized!" The others recoiled at the thought of a rabbit being blasted into meat sauce and scattered to the winds. Undoubtedly, it had been the same explosion that had destroyed the log bridge, dumping anyone who was standing on it into the river below. Remembering what Speedwell had said about the rest of their group being taken prisoner in this new timeline, it now made sense how Hawkbit and Dandelion had escaped this time round: when the explosion had destroyed the bridge, they had fallen into the river and made it into the secret tunnel at the base of the cliffs and reunited with their companions, preserving the continuity of events.

"Hey, everyone come and look at this!" Fiver called from the bushes nearby. Hurrying over to him, they saw he had found, what looked like, a large length of nylon and cords, hanging from the branches of overhead trees. They had found the ejection seat from the fighter plane that had been pursuing them earlier. The empty pilot's seat stood in an upright position in the grass, still attached to the parachute cords, the pilot's discarded lifejacket, oxygen mask and thermal uniform lying in a pile nearby. The survival pack that was usually tucked under the seat was missing; it was obvious that he had survived the jettison and was now lurking out there somewhere.

"It looks like we now have yet another problem to worry about. If this guy's still alive, then there's only one place for him to go: he's going to make for Watership Down, to steal our plane, his only alternate return ticket. And if he finds Robbins and sets him free…" He trailed off, realising the danger they were in.

"He could ruin everything for us, or even get someone else killed. We have to warn the others!" Hazel said as Alan took out his walkie-talkie, but got no signal, "Damn, it's out of range. I can't get through!" They all knew that if they turned back now, McEwen and the rest of survivors trapped in Efrafa would be doomed, either succumb to starvation or be otherwise killed by the enemy. On the other hand, if Robbins escaped again, then they would soon have far bigger problems to worry about; if he made it back to the 21st century, everything they had done to save the future would be ruined, probably wink out of existence altogether.

Then, Alan suddenly realised one very important factor: the time warp had receded. Glancing up at the evening sky, he could no longer see any trace of it. He didn't know whether or not Black Inferno could still generate another as it slingshot around the Earth, but he knew that without the warp, it didn't matter if Robbins escaped or not, as he had nowhere to flee; he couldn't return to the 21st century and he had no powerful ally left in this world to aid him, not since Woundwort had discarded him. Although it was a dangerous gamble with luck, under the circumstances it was worth the risk.

"I think we should keep going; even if this new enemy manages to reach Watership Down, he will still be outnumbered and Josie and Hotdog are both armed and on alert. Besides, he doesn't even know where Robbins is, or even if he's still alive. With the time warp gone, they'd probably just flee into hiding; we can always recapture them later. On the other hand, McEwen and the others will be dead if we don't get to them soon; our efforts to bring them back will be in vain."

"Then I agree, we should take our chances and press on. We won't get another chance to save our friends if we fail again," Hazel said, backing up Alan. Bigwig frowned, "I don't like this idea Hazel. This is _not_ a threat to be taken so lightly; you saw what happened last time we made that mistake. Acorn is dead and Speedwell is probably standing face to face with the Black Rabbit…"

"And if we don't move fast, McEwen and the others will soon be standing face to face with the Black Rabbit as well!" Alan interrupted sharply as Bigwig glared at him, "That is the most reckless thinking I have ever heard. By Frith,_ you_ should be the first one to agree that Robbins is dangerous! In case you've forgotten, your daughter is also right in the path of the enemy. You know what could happen if Robbins…" Seeing an imminent conflict, Hazel cleared his throat to silence Bigwig.

"I'll make the decision Bigwig; I'll take the responsibility for anything that happens. Right now we have another more important job to do; the others back on the Down will have to fend for themselves. We have a mission. So Alan, how do we get across here?"

"I was just thinking along the same lines Hazel," Alan replied thoughtfully, staring at the deep canyon that separated them from the borders of Efrafa. They had reached an obstacle; with the bridge gone, there was absolutely no other way across. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted as he heard Fiver start moaning behind him. They all turned and saw the young buck staring skywards, shivering and moaning; he was having another vision.

"The battle for the future is imminent. But only with the noble sacrifice of the faraway friend can the tyrant and those who follow him be vanquished forever…" he moaned in rhymes, his eyes having turned glassy from the vision overwhelming his mind. The others gathered around him, "What is it lad? What did you see?" Fiver took a moment to recover before answering.

"I saw Efrafa destroyed by a massive ball of fire before being swallowed up in an bottomless dark abyss, which then morphed into the mouth of the Black Rabbit, demanding a sacrifice so he can emerge from the Shadowlands for Woundwort and his army." The others stared at each other looking horrified; this premonition, like all the others before, didn't sound good.

"A _sacrifice_? You mean one of us will have to _die_ so we can win against Woundwort?" Hazel asked, while Alan felt chills go down his spine. This 'faraway friend' undoubtedly meant one his own party, probably McEwen, Josie, Hotdog, Lucy, or even himself. Not that he feared death, but for the first time in a long time, he didn't want to die now; he had Lucy, Josie and all his new friends to start a new life with. He didn't feel ready to face death just yet, but the thought of seeing another of his friends die on his account only felt worse. They all stared at Fiver, feeling very put off by this new omen. The runt rabbit only shook his head.

"I don't know. But one of us will have to die before the final battle is over, if Woundwort is to be defeated. I don't know who or when, but it is inevitable, if we are to win in the end."

"You said you saw Efrafa _destroyed_?" Alan said, remembering the stolen nitroglycerine Robbins had bribed Woundwort with. A quick glance at the approaching storm, with its lightning strikes, which would find the lightning rods attached to the canisters, told him they didn't have much time. The clock of doom was ticking for everyone on that dismal island. He turned to look at the parachute attached to the ejection seat of the fighter plane, "I think I have an idea. Help me get this thing down."

Working carefully, they managed to untangle the parachute from the trees and they spread it out on the grass on the edge of the cliff. After cutting the canvas free from the useless ejection seat, Alan unpacked several harnesses and secured them to the cords, improvising a parasail for them to glide across. Although risky, to say the least, given their excessive numbers, he knew that jettison parachutes were always designed to take much more than just the weight of the pilot, who was normally strapped in a jettison seat, equipped with heavy batteries, rocket launchers, locator beacon and emergency equipment, all of which added together were equivalent to around maybe a quarter of ton worth of weight.

With his own weight of 165lbs, plus the average weight of 95lbs of each of his rabbit friends, multiplied by four, plus another 50lbs for his equipment was equal to around 595lbs, or just above the estimated weight limit. However, with no reference figure to confirm, they would just have to chance it and hope it held.

"Now we need to find someplace high from where we can jump… Up there!" he said pointing at the remaining half of a stone bridge nearby, overlooking the canyon, from where local railway tracks had run centuries ago; it was the famous Iron Road Archway that Richard Adams had featured in his book, where Bigwig and the Efrafan escapees had evaded Woundwort's Owsla. Of course, time and nature had long since taken their toll on the structure.

The archway had apparently split in half when the giant fissure had formed under it during the catastrophic quakes of 2027. Now, one half of the bridge stood on their side of the canyon, while the other half had shifted over to the Efrafan side, when the quakes had torn the crust apart, leaving the two halves facing each other on either side, almost a hundred feet apart. It was almost like an ironic symbol, a warning that the island on the other side was completely off-limits to intruders.

Their carried the parachute up onto the edge of the collapsed bridge and spread it out flat. The edge of the collapsed structure overlooked the deep canyon, like a jumping board to the abyss of death. Hawkbit, who had so far failed to comprehend Alan's plan, suddenly gasped in realisation, his eyes wide as saucers, "You mean we try and _fly_ over the gorge by holding onto this…this thing? Why, that's suicide!"

"Hazards of the mission," Alan replied calmly as he secured his harness around his waist and shoulders and helped each of his friends in one as well. "It's our only way across. I am going to turn you all into parasail flyers. Now listen carefully…" But Hawkbit, now realising Alan was serious, interrupted him.

"No way! We came here on a _rescue_ mission, not a _suicide_ mission! I am going back to check on the others, to make sure they are all right. Good luck!" He turned to leave but Bigwig's angry growl stopped him.

"You hold it right there, soldier, or I'll have your tail!" Hawkbit looked furious, "Bigwig, you may like being a hard-boiled egg through and through, but _I_ am not throwing my life away over another of Alan's crazy ideas…"

"No, you flea-brained weevil, _you_'ll be throwing your life away if you don't shut up and do as you're told!" Bigwig growled in a tone warning Hawkbit that he was on the verge of receiving another 'touch' of the stern Owsla Captain's discipline. Getting the message, the grey-furred turned his attention back to Alan, sulking. Then came the problem of securing six passengers onto a parachute not meant for so many.

"All right then, this is how we're going to do it: I'll be in the centre, so I can manoeuvre the sail; Fiver will be strapped in front of me, Bigwig will be against my back, and Hazel and Hawkbit will be on either side. It is only just over 30 metres to the other side. Piece of cake."

"Piece of…what?" Hazel asked curiously, unfamiliar with the term, while Hawkbit continued ranting with sarcasm, "Surely he means the pieces we'll be reduced to after falling to our deaths down there. Still think it's a good idea?"

"I think it's a good idea for you to shut your mouth Hawkbit!" Bigwig growled, growing tired with Hawkbit's sarcasm, "Another word and you'll find out exactly what it's like to fall down there!" Hawkbit shut his mouth instantly.

Alan picked up the parachute in a carefully folded bundle, so it would unfold when they jumped. Kneeling down, Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig and Hawkbit gathered round him as instructed, securing their harnesses together, like grapes on the same bunch. Then he picked up the discarded pilot's lifejacket and helped Fiver into it, "Just in case we miss the other side and land in the river, this will help keep you afloat since you aren't the best swimmer." Hazel and Bigwig smiled at Alan's gesture but Hawkbit wasn't so pleased.

"Excuse me, why does _he_ get that…that life protection thing? The rest of us have a right too you know!" Fiver was about to protest that someone else should have it instead, but Hazel calmly replied, "No little brother, it's yours. You're the smallest and the least experienced swimmer among us so you need it more that we do." Hawkbit groaned in exasperation, muttering how Fiver got 'special privileges' only because his brother was Chief Rabbit but the others ignored him as they braced themselves for the jump, "Here we go! Bigwig, gives us a good push back there, will you?" he called over his shoulder.

Putting all his muscle power into his hind legs, the mighty veteran, strapped back-to-back with Alan, pushed them over the edge, sending them plummeting into the deep misty canyon below. Wind brushed against their bodies, muffling their screams of terror, as Alan felt the parachute slip from his hands, soar upwards and unfold. With a powerful jolt as the parachute opened, breaking their fall. But unfortunately, as Alan had feared, they were overweight and quickly losing altitude.

Missing the top of the opposite side and drifted downwards, plummeting towards the churning water below. As Alan struggled to keep them aloft, the parachute suddenly got caught in a crosswind and fell out of control. Next second, they saw a solid rock wall formed by the cliffs of the Efrafan Island emerge through the mist, with them heading straight for it. Quickly drawing his pistol, he fired a shot over his shoulder, destroying one of the safety rings that held the parachute cables attached to his harness. With only about 5ft left between them and the cliffs, the parachute detached and they plummeted into the river below.

Like a massive boulder, the five of them landed into the churning water, entangled in the mess of nylon and cord, which was the parachute. In an instant, they were all struggling with the cold water, their harnesses keeping them strapped together, as the deadly current carried them downstream.

Holding his breath, Alan struggled to undo the harnesses, Fiver struggling like mad in his arms, utterly terrified from being forcibly submerged like that; suddenly, his waist strap came loose and Alan, holding Fiver under one arm to prevent him from drifting away and drowning, resurfaced beside his drowning companions. Quickly inflating the lifejacket so Fiver could float without support, he turned to help Hazel, Bigwig and Hawkbit, who were struggling to free themselves from the harnesses that held them tangled together, drowning them.

Holding them by the ears to keep their heads above water, Alan, with Fiver's help, fought to undo the harnesses. It wasn't an easy job; the buckles had tightened hermitically during the flight, making it difficult to free them without a knife. Combined with the fact that he was fighting the current while simultaneously struggling to free them from their entrapment, Alan was quickly becoming exhausted. Cursing himself for this reckless plan, which had landed them in this fix, he felt his trapped friends slipping. In another moment, he would lose his grip completely, leaving Hazel, Bigwig and Hawkbit to be swallowed up by the current…

Suddenly, they heard a voice call out to them from the foot of the cliffs and next second, a rope came down over their heads. In one swift move, Alan grabbed hold, while still maintaining a firm grip on his friends with his other hand. Looking in the direction of the small cove at the foot of the cliffs, where the entrance to the secret tunnel was, he saw Major McEwen and Campion trying to haul them in. It had been they who had tossed them the rope, saving them from being swallowed up by the river. Soon, Alan and his group were safely back on dry land, reunited with two more of their missing companions.

Just like with their friends back at the Down, McEwen and Campion had been brought back to life, with no relocation of their deaths or the devastation caused by Project Black Inferno. The rock wound on McEwen's head, the one that had killed the pilot in the previous timeline, had vanished completely, as if it had never happened at all. Campion too, looked completely unhurt, if not a bit peaked, confirming that Vervain had never killed him this time round. The arrival of Alan's rescue party was a source of absolute joy for them.

"Am I so glad to see you guys! I thought those bloody Efrafans had got you too… I say, what's that bloody awful stench?" McEwen groaned in disgust, as he helped untangle the rabbits from their harnesses. The answer came in the form of Bigwig's furious retorting.

"That clumsy rotter Hawkbit vomited all over me, that's what stinks!" the veteran barked and they all noticed, with a mixture of amusement and disgust, that Hawkbit had retched all over Bigwig in fear, drenching the veteran's tuft of fur in foul-smelling puke. After everyone had recovered, Alan, Bigwig, Hawkbit (who now had a fresh bite on his tail from Bigwig), Hazel and Fiver followed McEwen and Campion into the tunnel that led up through the old mine and into Buxton Hall.

The underground chamber was just as Alan remembered it from the previous timeline, with the rusting generator and Sven's skeletal remains lying on the floor. The man's right hand, he noticed, was now a prosthetic, after he had cut off his real one back in 2013. Ironically, when the evil man had interrogated Hazel and Hawkbit about the future, he had forgotten to inquire about one little factor: his own eventual fate. That seemingly insignificant mistake had cost Sven his life all over again, when he willingly joined forces with Hemlock, unaware that the dark warlord would eventually turn on him after his usefulness expired. Alan also noticed that the passage that led towards Efrafa was now completely caved in, from quite recently too, judging by the fresh earth and fallen rocks, as well as the smell of burning that filled the air; it had been an artificial explosion that had caused the tunnel to collapse, cutting them off from the advancing Efrafans.

Entering Red Hand's old headquarters, Alan saw the same ruinous, inhospitable place he had observed on their previous visit. The only exception was a small habitable spot set up in the drawing room, with a roaring fire in the grate and the timber blocking the rectangular holes that were once windows, keeping out the chilly breeze that hissed throughout the rest of the structure like a howling gale, providing some comfort for McEwen's group.

Scattered around the room were the remains of their meagre equipment from their last visit, including the now-used-up first aid kit, their beer-bottles-flasks, all empty, their dead flashlights, and one of the pistols. There were also several bits of aircraft junk, which Alan recognised as the components they had stripped off the Cessna in their escape. A couple of makeshift beds, fashioned out of the flattened aircraft seats stood by the fire. And lying on one of them was…

"Silver?" Alan and his group gasped in surprise, as they spotted another of their resurrected friends, looking battered and exhausted, but very much alive. Beside him sat Dandelion, also looking rather sickly, but alive nonetheless. Hazel on the other hand had frozen dead in his tracks, as he recognised the occupant of the second bed: a young, intelligent-looking doe with deep hazel eyes; his beloved Hyzenthlay lay before him, looking exhausted and with a bandage around the crown of her head, but alive nonetheless. Beside her sat a black-furred buck with shredded ears and horrible scarring all over his battered body. Blackavar, Hyzenthlay's fellow conspirator in their escape from Efrafa, sat beside his friend, keeping her company, despite the exhaustion and fatigue visible in his eyes, which expressed the aftermath of his long suffering as a slave in Efrafa.

In an instant, the Chief rabbit of Watership Down had leapt across the room and was touching noses with his love. Alan smiled as he watched his friends enjoying their reunion, as he turned to McEwen and Campion, who were standing aside, giving their friends a moment of privacy.

"How did you all end up together, Major?" Alan asked, confused by the presence of Campion and the two former Efrafan slaves, which Speedwell had reported as captured by Woundwort's Owsla.

"I found them washed up on the rocks at the base of the cliffs the day after you escaped," McEwen explained, "Woundwort was going to have them executed as the ringleaders of their group's escape, only Campion blew his cover at the right moment and helped them escape and they jumped off the cliff to escape the perusing Owsla and made it to the tunnel entrance. Hyzenthlay had suffered quite a bad concussion in her fall and was running a high fever when we brought her here, but I was able to bring it down using my last dose of penicillin. She'll be fine."

"I was sure she was going to die," Campion said, shuddering at the memory, "By Frith of Inle, all these incredible…_healing concoctions_ you humans have, can completely dazzle your mind. Pity my Chief only wishes to exploit all that knowledge to bring more death and destruction." Alan smiled at the former Efrafan Captain of Owsla; of all the rabbits that had joined them throughout their journey, Campion had been the most hesitant, completely distrustful of humans after being under Woundwort's dark influence all his life. Now Alan could finally see a changed rabbit standing in the place of the once cold-hearted Captain of Woundwort's Owsla.

"No regrets of finally standing up to your Chief's tyranny, Campion?" asked Alan sympathetically, realising that by helping Hyzenthlay escape had undoubtedly cost the brave rabbit the life he had known; all his former friends, comrades, his position in the Owsla, everything he had worked so hard to achieve in Efrafa had been lost the instant he had been branded a traitor. To his surprise however, Campion didn't seem the least downcast.

"_Regrets_? On the contrary, I finally feel that Frith has given me a chance to make amends for all my mistakes, to throw away the burden that has rested on my conscience for so long. By the Black Rabbit, I have been taught one very cruel lesson: I have spend most of my life fighting to protect my people and warren, but my blindness wouldn't let me realise that I have only been leading them towards their own destruction by serving that dishonourable murderer that calls himself our Chief Rabbit. By Frith, I didn't even protest when he killed my own _father_ and so many other innocents that had the courage to oppose him. If anything, I have just as much blood on my paws as he does…" The warrior rabbit drooped his ears in shame, but Alan placed a comforting hand on Campion's shoulder.

"No Campion, while you may indeed have the blood of innocents on your paws, you _don't_ share Woundwort's dishonour; that why you're here now. There is no point in _begging_ those you wronged for forgiveness, as you can't give them back what you took from them. They all suffered and died for the same reason: to end Woundwort's tyranny. To _earn_ their forgiveness, you must do precisely what you're doing now: fighting for the same cause they stood for, to ensure they didn't die in vain. I was given the same chance myself and now I am finally free of my own tormenting demons."

"'Given the same chance?'" asked McEwen staring at him curiously, "What on earth are you talking about? For four days now, I thought you had crashed and died and now you suddenly reappear out of thin air with a new aircraft, and my wife accompanying you. Where have you been…?" His tongue suddenly stuck in his throat as realisation hit him, "_You managed to return to our own time?_" he whispered in shock.

"Yes Major, we did. Your wife, Dr Drake and an old friend of mine helped us take down Robbins' faction for good. And I even recovered what I thought I had lost forever: my daughter had been alive all this time and is now here in the future with us, along with your wife. This time Major, we have come prepared; we have weapons, supplies and enough people to restart civilisation in this new world, from where my old colleague left off." McEwen was speechless for a moment, before he grabbed hold of Alan in a fierce bear hug, causing the professor to stagger in embarrassment.

"You goddamn son of a bitch, I don't know how the hell to thank you! You brought back to me what I thought I had lost forever, something that meant everything to me. But…Hang on! What about my son? Isn't he here too?"

"Major, I am afraid your son is missing. Josie…I mean _Mrs McEwen_ said he went looking for you after we disappeared. As far as we can tell, he flew through the time warp and into the future. We were hoping he would have found you by now, but…" McEwen frowned in confusion.

"Well, I didn't see another aircraft or hear any other radio transmission since you left; I've been on the air all this time, hoping someone else had made it through, and would come to our rescue. Oh God, when I heard your voice, I thought my hunger was making me hear things!" At that moment, Alan felt a penetrating gaze upon him; turning, he saw Blackavar standing there, an unreadable expression on his face.

"A mul nahl meth mi tafo; an a tring na meth vaorah i mi val," he said, bowing respectfully, as if to his master. Alan however, who couldn't understand other than just a few Lapine words, looked at Campion and McEwen in confusion.

"He doesn't speak English unfortunately," McEwen explained, "Campion and Hyzenthlay have had to translate for him and vice-versa since they arrived. However, he is a brave and honest fellow and knows we mean no harm to him or his friends." Alan turned to Blackavar, "Tell him, it has been my pleasure and intend to make sure Woundwort is punished for what he did to him." Campion translated for Blackavar, who replied something else in return.

"He says he is willing to die fighting by our side if we ask him too; anyone who is an enemy of Woundwort is his friend and ally forever." Alan smiled at Blackavar's courage, satisfied to see that, although physically scarred, Woundwort hadn't succeeded in crushing the buck's spirit despite the brutal punishment, as he had done to so many others. He turned to McEwen.

"How _were_ you transmitting Major? Where on earth did you find a working radio? I thought we didn't have one on us…" Alan asked, remembering the transmission they had heard from the plane. McEwen smiled, pointing at a makeshift table, fashioned out of chunks of stone and timber; atop it lay an assortment of electronic components they had stripped off the Cessna, as well as the tools from the chopper's survival kit, "I didn't find one; I made it…"

By wiring up one of the pilot's headsets to the transponder, using the battery from Derek's smashed laptop for power, and the plane's ELT aerial to transmit, allowing him to transmit voice waves, rather than identification signals, on the transponder's frequency bands, McEwen had improvised a crude, one-way transmitter. It was from this homemade device that the signal they had picked up in flight had originated from.

"Ingenious," Alan commented as he stared at the transmitter fashioned out of a few pieces of seemingly useless junk. "This is a most remarkable piece of work you've done here Major. Where did you learn how to build this contraption? Bloody hell, this craftsmanship would give even Derek a run for his money…" He trailed off, remembering that his childhood friend was still missing, probably dead.

"In Her Majesty's Royal Air Corps, during the war," explained McEwen proudly, "With some duct tape, a pocket-knife, my Royal Air Corps manual and certain key components cannibalised from all this junk, I was able to set up an entirely new communications centre. Too bad I could only transmit one way though; I couldn't find all the components to construct a receiver. Then I remembered the walkie-talkie and decided to try that instead. But never mind that now… You said you've brought weapons and equipment?"

Alan opened his backpack, revealing his impressive weapons arsenal. McEwen whistled aloud, "Bloody hell, and I was hoping for a couple of working pistols at best; you've brought enough firepower to mow down a small army! One thing is certain: _we_ have Woundwort by the balls now, not the other way around!" Alan suddenly realised that they were wasting precious time.

"Then we better get started; time is running out for the others. But first, here is some food and drink for you lot, to get your strength back." Ten minutes later, McEwen and his famished companions had satisfied their hunger and thirst, with the rations from Alan's pack. McEwen swallowed the last piece of a sandwich.

"Oh, how much I had missed my wife's special corned beef and mustard sandwiches. God, that tasted good," he said, as he turned to take a bite out of a nut-and-raisin chocolate bar for dessert. Beside him, the rabbits were feasting on several plastic plates of 21st century vegetables. Despite the strong scent of human touch about them, the rabbits found them most enjoyable and filling. Even Blackavar, who had never accepted any food from the hand of man before, couldn't hide his pleasure for his first-ever decent meal, instead of the scraps of dry weeds and muddy water the Efrafan slaves usually lived on. However, no sooner was the last bite swallowed, than Alan called everyone to order.

"Everyone has been accounted for except for Holly, Blackberry, Silverweed, Buckthorn, Nelthilta, Thethuthinang, Vilthuril and Derek. If they're still alive, then they can only be among the prisoners held in Efrafa. Now, we obviously can't use the secret passage again as it is blocked. However, this time, we won't be needing the element of surprise anymore; we are armed and can fight our way through above ground, using any force necessary…"

"Hold it!" interrupted Campion sharply, "What do you mean by 'any force necessary'? I may have been branded a traitor, but I won't just let you just storm in, killing everyone in your path with those…those firesticks of yours! Many of the Owsla still happen to be my friends you know! You are supposed to free your friends and help us end Woundwort's tyranny, not engage in a massacre!" Blackavar, who was having everything translated in his ear by Hyzenthlay, spoke up.

"Hloth bral vao? Thum hrakamarli Stih-rah as olme Owsla drao lay zorn!" Even Alan didn't need to speak Lapine to understand what the Efrafan deserter meant; of all the rabbits present, Blackavar undoubtedly felt the least merciful for Woundwort and his followers for what they had done to him. He turned back to Campion, who was giving his fellow exiled Efrafan a reproachful glare.

"Don't worry Campion, there will be no killings unless in self-defence," he replied reassuringly, earning a small smile from the Efrafan Captain of Owsla. Bigwig however frowned.

"And how exactly do you propose we get past those savage, bloodthirsty thugs outside, that have orders to kill us, huh? Ask nicely?" Doing some quick thinking, Alan unpacked a case from his bag, containing two air pistols and a dozen darts filled with an incapacitating nerve agent, "Josie gave me these for just such an occasion. Each dart contains 5ccs of concentrated Carfentanil, the estimated dosage for rabbits your size, enough to knock the victim out for half an hour. They should do the trick."

"Are you absolutely sure these things won't hurt them?" Campion asked, staring wearily at the gleaming, pointed tips of the darts, "They don't look all that harmless to me!" Alan rolled his eyes at Campion's excessive worrying, "Don't worry pal, they can't kill anything larger than a rat. Unfortunately, we have a bigger problem to worry about: thanks to Robbins' insane bargaining, Woundwort now has a deadly supply of nitroglycerine stowed in his backyard, waiting to explode with the approaching storm. Robbins found it back at the HAB and used it to bribe Woundwort as part of their agreement to destroy us, in exchange for his freedom. That insane fool doesn't realise what he's really playing with. If we don't…"

"What's this nitro…whatever it is you called it?" asked Dandelion, unfamiliar with the term. Campion however frowned in realisation, remembering how one of the canisters, which Woundwort had ordered transported back to Efrafa, along with the prisoners, had detonated on the way, killing several of his Owsla, including his friend Charlock, as they had crossed the log bridge back into their territory. He had begged his Chief to leave the rest of those 'cursed human weapons' alone, before they caused more harm. To his utmost horror, Woundwort had actually been _satisfied_ by the incident, boasting of that destructive power that now belonged to him.

"That miserable oaf has stolen the nitroglycerine?" McEwen snarled, "Damn! And after I warned Dr Shaw to get rid of those canisters!"

"That…shiny log-like thing that killed officer Charlock?" gasped Hyzenthlay, remembering how the unfortunately Charlock had tripped, dropping the canister and causing it to explode, annihilating himself and several others, as well as destroying the bridge. Woundwort's sinister smile of satisfaction at the demonstration of this deadly power had been utterly sickening. To make matters worse, she realised now her friends were been held with more of those human weapons beside them, like a lurking grim reaper, pending his time, looking for more lives to claim.

"Oh Frith, the others…Thethuthinang, Vilthuril, Nelthilta," she wept, realising the danger the rest of her friends were in now; if Woundwort didn't kill them, there was still a good chance, the exploding canisters would do the job instead. Hazel nuzzled her, trying to comfort her, while Alan went on talking.

"So, the bottom line is, we must secure that nitroglycerine before the storm hits. Robbins said he rigged each canister with a lightning conductor, so that they will detonate with the approaching storm; one bolt of lightning and the whole island will be destroyed in an instant, along with our friends. All we have to do is remove those lightning conductors and bury the canisters, to keep them safely out of the way of disturbance. We can return later and remove them at our leisure."

Unpacking his weapons, he divided the arsenal between himself and McEwen, the only two armed members of their raiding party. Alan kept his father's shotgun and his two pistols, while McEwen got one of Red Hand's semi-automatic assault rifles as his primary weapon and a high-voltage Taser baton an a side weapon. Remembering his promise to Campion, he also tucked one of the dart guns, each containing half a dozen darts, into his belt and made sure McEwen kept the second one.

"All set, Major? Outstanding. Lock and load!" They turned and marched towards the front door. Staring out the rusted, ivy-coated bars of the broken window into the once-elegant garden of the estate, they could see some fifty Owsla bucks standing guard, waiting for them to surrender. Alan almost pitied them; how little did they realise that the enemy 'trapped' inside was actually in control! He turned to look at Campion and saw a pleading look in his green eyes; in another minute, they would have no choice but to gun their way through that mob, yet dreaded the prospect of having to sacrifice his misled former comrades for the good of the warren. Before any arguments could be exchanged however, Bigwig's voice suddenly cut them off.

"Quiet, I heard something! I think we have company!" They all fell silent, listening carefully. Then they heard it; the echoing of soft footsteps of someone lurking about downstairs. Noiselessly, they changed direction and made their way down the rusted spiral staircase into the basement to investigate.

"I am picking up fresh scent…from in there!" Hazel whispered, gesturing in the direction of an old mass shower room, once used by Red Hand's faction members, a tilled room with many broken shower cubicles lining the cracked walls. A large drain hole stood in the centre of the room with its cover missing. A set of pawprints on the dirty floor led away from the opening, out the door and down the corridor.

"It looks like someone found another way in," Alan frowned, realising they had come very close to being attacked unawares. The intruder, whoever it was, had apparently found some way into the old sewer tunnels running underneath the house and made his way in. And with no tracks leading back _out_, meant that the intruder couldn't have left; undoubtedly, hearing them coming, he had rushed for cover somewhere. "We've got to find him before he escapes and warns the rest of the Owsla outside about this tunnel. Campion, you and Fiver stay here on guard. The rest of you with me."

They followed the trail down the corridor into, what was once, Samir's torture dungeon. Although the room had been stripped of all the gory trophies taken from his victims, it still had the air of a place that had seen great horrors. The two torture tables were Hazel and Hawkbit had been strapped to, were still there, looking battered and rusted, as well as the old bathtub that once held boiling water, for victims to be slowly drowned or boiled alive during interrogation sessions.

As Alan shone his flashlight inside the apparently empty bathtub, he was startled suddenly as a figure, which had being hiding inside, sprang past him and bolted for the door. In an instant, Captain Vervain was pinned down by Bigwig and Silver, as the rest of the group towered over him giving him deadly looks.

"Well, well, well, this is the day of reunions, is it not? Our old friend Vervain…" Alan said coldly, as the evil stared back at him and his companions, looking terrified. "No, it can't be; you're dead!" Alan, remembering how Vervain was pathetically superstitious, fought the urge to laugh at the amusing sight of the sadist rabbit looking scared half to death from being ambushed by the 'ghosts' of his enemies. Instead of finding the three escaped deserters, he had instead found a fully-fledged outsiders' squad, waiting to strike.

"Maybe the Black Rabbit makes a better choice of who deserves to follow Him into the Shadowlands," Hazel replied coldly, glaring at Vervain with an expression of utmost disgust. Blackavar in particular, was staring at Vervain with such a murderous expression, it made Alan glad he wasn't in the evil rabbit's place, "I daresay, we could happily arrange for you to meet Him face-to-face…"

"Frith's smiling on us today; time to rip a strip off this one I think!" Bigwig growled with satisfaction, raising his paw to strike the cowering Vervain, who whimpered in fear. But Alan, despite his great loathing for Vervain, remembering Campion's plea not to harm any of his old comrades unless absolutely necessary, stopped Bigwig from cuffing Vervain over the head, which would have most likely decapitated him, "Take it easy Bigwig; there's no need for that." The mighty veteran frowned,

"What do you mean, 'there's no need for that?'" he growled angrily, "This miserable worm sold us out to his master! It's because of him that Acorn was killed! Why waste our mercy on _him_?"

"This…this foul evil creature made my life miserable!" Hyzenthlay spat coldly, her usually kind eyes glowing with hate, "My friends and I have been his amusement slaves since we were kittens! We couldn't even speak out for ourselves without punishment. Look at poor Blackavar! He deserves to die!" Beside her, Blackavar muttered something in Lapine in a tone so cold, causing Vervain to nearly jump out of his skin in fear and Campion to give the mutilated buck a word of warning. Catching Alan struggling to understand the Lapine, Fiver explained.

"He is saying we should maul Vervain to death and leave him outside as a warning of vengeance to Woundwort's Owsla. To be perfectly honest, I can't blame him after what I have just heard," he muttered, his usually timid expression cold and stony. Although Alan himself felt sick, not to mention all the more outraged at the thought of Vervain assaulting does for sport, the idea of murdering a defenceless prisoner still didn't appeal to him.

"I am not saying we should_ pity_ him," he replied coldly, causing Vervain to gasp and Bigwig to grin, "I am only saying there are other ways we can handle this, other than by death or torture. Stand him upright!" McEwen grabbed hold of the struggling rabbit and stood Vervain up on his hind legs so he was facing Alan. The man took out a roll of duct tape from his backpack and unwound it, "Vervain, cross your paws in front of me like a good lad."

"Never, you filthy ithe! You can't make me!" spat the sadist rabbit, spitting Alan in the face, who frowned dangerously as he signalled to McEwen. The others only laughed at Vervain's pitiful bravado.

"Oh, you'll find you're dead wrong about that, sonny!" McEwen chuckled, reaching up and wringing Vervain's ears like one would with a pair of wet socks that had just come out of the wash, until they had taken the shape of unicorn horns. Vervain screamed in agony, struggling to pull free but to no avail. The others smirked in satisfaction as McEwen kept it up mercilessly, "Do as you're told, or I'll turn your ears to teabag caddies!"

"The man means to rip your ears off Vervain," Alan muttered, "I'd do as he says!" But the sadist only continued to scream pitifully, yet stubbornly refusing to give in, not wanting to give them the satisfaction.

"Leave him to me!" Bigwig growled, getting impatient at Vervain's stubbornness, "Silver, grab hold from that side, will you lad?" The two Owsla rabbits, grinning evilly, each grabbed hold of Vervain's ears and pulled, like tugging with a party popper. They tugged so hard that the features on Vervain's face were becoming distorted, the ears about to be torn out by their roots. Vervain burst into a new fit of screams but remained stubbornly resistant, as he struggled to wriggle out of McEwen's grip.

"I would advise you to cooperate while you're still ahead Vervain," Hazel said, "or perhaps we should let Blackavar deal with you instead." This was the final straw and Vervain, terrified of the prospect of ending up at the mercy of his abused former slave, who'd probably mutilate him beyond recognition in revenge, if not kill him outright, finally gave in.

They duct-taped him up forepaws and hind legs, making sure he couldn't move an inch, as Vervain panted nervously, dreading what they intended to do to him. "Please, I beg you, don't do it…please don't…" he muttered, as Alan glared at him in disgust; Vervain obviously thought his punishment for setting Woundwort on them would be some horrible torture or mutilation, so no doe would ever look at him again, not to mention how Blackavar and all the other rabbits he had ordered maimed, would mock and jeer at him for the rest of his life.

"No Vervain, as much as we would like to, we aren't dissecting you alive. Instead, you'll be spending the eve of the upcoming battle in solitary confinement, so you may stay out of our way and maybe reflect on everything you have done."

"You've got me wrong! Woundwort forced me to do his bidding…" Vervain pleaded his innocence but it only fell on deaf ears.

"Changing your tune, Vervain?" asked Fiver coldly, "First Woundwort is your beloved lord and master, whom you are honoured to serve, and now you are the victim, threatened into doing his dirty work. Make up your mind already!"

"But I…" Vervain tried pleading again, his mind working furiously on some excuse to worm his way out of trouble. "I can give you valuable information! The warren's defences, the Owsla strengths, anything…"

"Shut up!" Bigwig growled, as they dragged the immobilised Vervain out of the room "I've already had my fill of your pitiful excuses!" But it was only when Alan slapped the duct-tape over the rabbit's mouth and wound it several times around his head, to ensure it wouldn't come loose, did Vervain finally hold his tongue, as they dragged him into the kitchens.

The room, like the rest of the house, was stripped bare and falling into ruin; only the door to the freezer room they had used as a fallout shelter only a few days ago – or rather a few centuries ago - still stood on the far wall. Pulling open the rusted steel door, which creaked on its hinges, Alan saw the same room they had observed in the previous timeline: piles of old rubbish lay in corners and the pawprints and bloodstains from Hyzenthlay's group were still visible on the dusty floor.

With a shove, they flung Vervain into the small room face down. The pathetic creature turned to stare at them in a pleading way, unable to move or speak, tears of rage and humiliation rolling down his face. They all smirked at him pitilessly, enjoying the sight of him wriggling around like a giant furry slug in mummy wrappings. Most likely Vervain would have patches of fur ripped off of him when they'd remove all that tape, but their desire to see Vervain punished was too great to resist.

"I suggest you use your time in here to reflect on all the misery and suffering you've caused, and maybe consider changing for the better. Mind you, we're being exceptionally lenient for a dirty little scoundrel like you. Others wouldn't be so merciful, considering everything you've done!" Without another word, McEwen slid the freezer door shut and Vervain was engulfed in the total darkness and isolation of his small prison.

Author's note: Another chapter is up! By the way, the trick with McEwen wiring up a microphone to a transponder should theoretically work, but would only transmit one way, as it has no receiver. Also, with the parachute from Max Pete's plane, it should work too. I try to be as realistic as possible in my stories; however, some fantasy licence is necessary for a good story. Note that the future has all being reshaped by their temptation with time, so don't get confused! Coming up next, they find the rest of the survivors and the final battle finally begins! Enjoy and please review! Until next time then! Cheerio!


	48. Chapter 48 The Storming of Efrafa

Back on Watership Down, another group sat waiting, lost with worrying. After Robbins had escaped, although relieved that no one had been hurt, the prospect of what the evil brute and his associate might do to their friends, kept them all on edge. Speedwell's worsening condition and the loss of one of Violet's kittens added to their worrying and outrage. Even among rabbits, snatching away the young of a doe was considered a serious moral crime. The distraught doe lay curled up beside the dying Speedwell, alone, not speaking to anyone, sobbing softly for her missing baby.

Josie sat with the others in the main chamber, waiting desperately for news. Although she had reassured them that Hotdog had gone in pursuit of Robbins and would sort it out somehow, she felt no more reassured than anyone else present. Every now and then, she would try her walkie-talkie again, trying to contact Alan, but got no answer, his group being completely out of range.

"Isn't there some other way to warn them?" asked Strawberry, "Perhaps, you can find another of these…these _talking contraptions_ in the man-burrow?" These words gave instantly Josie a good idea, "That's it! There is still power down below and I even _remember_ seeing a communications station in the control room. All right, I will go back down and see if I can get it to work," she said, picking up a flashlight and heading for the shaft. She was just about to fasten the harness around her waist and climb down, when they suddenly heard Violet's tearful wail from the burrow, "Speedwell has stopped breathing!"

They all hurried over and found Speedwell choking and in spasms; he was going into cardiac arrest. Josie hastily shoved the others aside and knelt down beside the dying rabbit. She tried putting him in a recovery position, so he could choke up any blood that might be obstructing his airway, but to no avail. As she bent over to check his breathing, Speedwell gave a last moan and lay still. Shooting for Lucy to fetch the defibrillator and artificial respirator, she desperately started CPR, trying to revive him but it was useless. Speedwell lay motionless, his eyes staring vacantly at nothing; he was dead.

They all stared shell-shocked at the corpse, their hearts heavy. Violet was weeping softly, staring at her former lover, now resting in peace, "He asked me to apologize to Bluebell for him, just before he…" They all remained silent, realizing that Speedwell had finally seen past his pride and accepted that his cousin loved Violet, but had realised it too late to repair the breach that his jealousy had formed between them so long ago. Josie covered up the body with a blanket and stood up, "I am going below to see if I can find that radio. The rest of you wait here and keep a sharp lookout till I come back."

"Wait, let us come with you; you might need some help," Lucy said, stepping forward, followed by Pipkin, whom Alan had personally left to watch over Lucy in his absence. Although Josie didn't like the idea of taking the two youngsters, currently under her responsibility, down into the potentially unsafe HAB with her, on the other hand she didn't like the idea of being in that spooky place all alone, so she reluctantly agreed.

Placing Pipkin in her empty backpack like a baby, and making Lucy promise she would stay close at all times, they climbed down the rope into the semi-flooded HAB. After reaching the safety of the control room and drying off, they started searching the many different stations and consoles for the radio (well, at least Josie was searching, while Pipkin and Lucy were mostly just playing and prodding at the many switches and buttons on the control panels).

It didn't take them long to find the HAB's state-of-the-art communications station, a system consisting of high-and-low frequency UHF radios, high-range radar screens, multiple satellite uplinks and other state-of-the-art equipment, able to establish communication with even the most rudimentary of radios. Their joy was short-lived however as Josie put on the headset, only to discover the antenna array was off the air; not even static could be heard. The communications systems, just like the rest of the facility's key equipment, functioned via the missing mainframe computer, rendering everything useless. Sighing, Josie tossed away the headset, "No use; it's all dead as fossils."

But this place is so big," Lucy said, "Surely, there must be something else down here we could use?" Josie's mind instantly sprang to the storage vaults Alan had mentioned, which should contain some portable transmitters meant for expeditions to the surface, only to remember that that section was now underwater, completely inaccessible. Then, glancing at a diagram of the facility, she saw another large hanger located on Level 1, which was the HAB's vehicle garage. Surely one of those vehicles had to be equipped with a radio that maybe still worked?

Hurrying towards the stairwell, they made their way upstairs and located the dome-shaped hanger in the upmost compartment of the golf-ball-shaped facility. Situated right beside another access to the elevator shaft, the large hanger, which probably once housed a small armada of SUVs, including Rovers, trucks, Zodiacs and choppers, was empty, undoubtedly taken by the fleeing colonists during the evacuation, leaving only the painted outlines of parking spaces on the dusty floor, amidst scattered scrap vehicle components. The only exception was a once-state-of-the-art Jeep, with all four tyres flat and coated in centuries of dust. Their eyes lit up at the sight of the vehicle, which had a radio antenna protruding from its roof.

Forcing the vehicle's creaking door open, they climbed inside. Making herself comfortable on the front seats, they found what they were looking for: fitted in a slot just above the gearbox, was the vehicle's C.B., once used to communicate with home base. But when Josie tried the radio, she realised she had forgotten one little thing: all of the vehicle's instruments were designed to run from the power supplied either from its engine or standby battery, both of which were currently dead as doornails; the vehicle's radio was just as useless as the HAB's communications station.

"Great…Just wonderful!" she sighed, tossing away the microphone in frustration and running her hands through her hair in desperation, her hopes shattered. Alan and the others were about to walk straight into Robbins' trap and she had no way of warning them. Or maybe not?

Determined not to give up until she had tried every last alternative, she turned round, reaching into the locker in the back of the vehicle, hoping to find something useful. Her eyes lit up as she fished a pair of jumper cables complete with a battery-starter-unit from the jeep's toolbox. Although its power supply had undoubtedly long since gone flat, she had an idea, _The HAB still has some power but no working radio; the jeep's radio probably still works, but needs a new power source. So, if I can rig a cable to bypass the jeep's dead power system, we could be in business._

Attaching the main power cable of the jump-starter to an emergency jack in the wall, Josie was able to power it up; the red and blue alligator clips of the unit she attached to the vehicle's dead battery terminals, providing an alternate source of power. Holding her breath, she signalled Lucy to turn the vehicle's starter key to standby. She knew that if the current was too strong or had the wrong polarity, the system would instantly be fried beyond repair. To her great relief, there was a humming noise and then the dusty instruments on the dashboard sprang back to life. The vehicle's engine remained inoperative, but now there was enough power restored to operate the radio.

Reseating herself in the driver's seat, she got to work trying to figure out how to operate the radio. Although she had watched her husband do it on numerous occasions on their home transmitter, she only had a hazy idea of how it worked. Going through the vehicle's manual she had found in the glove compartment, she tried the ancient futuristic radio on different frequencies, "Can anyone read me, over? Alan, can you hear me please? Alan, James, anybody?" But there was only static crackling…

Meanwhile, Alan and his friends returned to the shower room, to the open drain hole Vervain had used to break in. Shining their flashlights down the hole, they saw a large sewer tunnel running right under the floor. This unforeseen entrance to their hideout, which had nearly compromised McEwen's party, would ironically now work in their favour, as a secret exit, without them having to confront the Efrafan Owsla. The surface of muddy rainwater on the tunnel floor was still as a mirror, indicating no signs of movement; it seemed fortunately Vervain had ventured in alone.

"All clear. Right, I'll go first and the rest of you follow through, one at a time. Major, you pick up the rear. Let's go!" Lowering his legs over the edge and jumping into the tunnel, he landed into ankle-deep water. The tunnel rather low, forcing him to crouch to walk through it. Gagging at the strong smell of rot that filled the space, he signalled to the others to follow. Hazel, Fiver, Dandelion, Hawkbit, Campion, Hyzenthlay, Blackavar and Bigwig made it through easily, but when it was Silver's turn, the buck's massive bulk got stuck in the drain hole, like a cork in a bottle.

"You shouldn't have had so much to eat!" Alan hissed, as he and Bigwig tugged at Silver's forepaws, trying to get the oaf-sized buck to squeeze through. From above, they could hear shouting and thumping noises, which was McEwen thumping at Silver's backside with his elbow, "Move your fat butt, you great big furry tub of lard!" Silver finally managed to squeeze through groaning, "I am squashed flat as a lily pad! And if I hear any more smart-mouthed comments about overeating, I'll cuff the lot of you into next season!"

Cautiously and silently, the group of eleven made their way along the dark tunnel, wondering where it would lead them and praying they wouldn't walk straight into the Efrafans at the other end. Then suddenly up ahead, they saw a patch of light coming from around a curve in the tunnel. Crawling towards it, they came to a fork; one turn led onwards to the left into total darkness, probably deeper underground, while the other led outside.

Crawling out of the tunnel, they found themselves in a ditch of thick brambles. Some of the vegetation outside the opening was all trampled and disturbed, undoubtedly by Vervain, when he had stumbled across the tunnel and ventured inside to investigate. Motioning to the others to stay put, Alan chanced a peak over the edge of the ditch with Campion, checking for any lookout that Vervain may have left behind. Fortunately, as it turned out, Vervain had indeed ventured into the tunnel alone, undoubtedly intent on keeping all the glory to himself once he had found the entrance and led the rest of the Owsla to it.

Looking in the direction of Buxton Hall a short distance away, he could see the Efrafan Owsla stationed in groups around the structure, waiting for them to surrender, completely unaware that the enemy were in fact, escaping from under their noses and on their way to storm their now unguarded warren! Campion, familiar with his former comrades' tactics, turned to the others whispering, "All right, everybody move quietly through here and keep your heads low, or the breeze will carry our scent straight towards them. Let's go!" With Campion in the lead, they crawled on their knees to avoid being spotted, making their way through the thick undergrowth, towards Efrafa.

Overrun by years of unchecked vegetation and landslides, like a maze of obstacles, the island was extremely difficult to navigate aboveground. Campion however, Alan noted, seemed to know his way around very well, undoubtedly part of his training as a prison guard, as well as a soldier. Soon, they found themselves on the edge of the Crixa. Taking cover behind a tree, Alan and his group surveyed the entrance to Woundwort's infamous domain.

The Crixa was a vast, circular crater dug into the ground, probably centuries ago, judging by the ancient oak tree growing over a single burrow entrance at the far side of the crater. A stone platform, similar to the one Alan had seen in Woundwort's chamber, projected from the dark tunnel that resembled the mouth of a Moloch, almost as if 'inviting' victims into the depths of Woundwort's dark domain, to their doom. However, with the exception of half a dozen sentries standing at attention around the edges of the Crixa, the warren seemed almost deserted, the majority of the Owsla having been stationed at Buxton Hall and the slaves apparently confined below ground. Alan saw their chance.

"It's perfect; it looks like Woundwort has his entire army stationed back at the manor, waiting for us to come out. This is a golden opportunity; if we can take out those few remaining sentries without raising the alarm, we can storm the warren and bust the others out, right from under Woundwort's ugly nose. Then we get back to the manor the same way we came, and rendezvous with Hotdog at the meeting place down in the canyon. That just leaves the problem with the nitroglycerine…"

"Hey, I see the bombs! Up there!" McEwen suddenly whispered, pointing at the entrance. Using his binoculars, Alan saw the two aluminium canisters of explosive liquid standing on either side of the entrance, like artificial guards for the warren. It was obvious by now that Robbins had definitely not fully explained the dangers of nitroglycerine to his master, since the canisters were being handled with such carelessness. The gullible Woundwort, undoubtedly convinced that he had 'man's destructive power' under his control, probably believed Efrafa was now invincible to everything. Little did he know that his bargaining with Robbins would in fact mean sealing the doom of his own domain!

Remaining out of sight and keeping their voices to a minimum to avoid detection, Alan and McEwen prepared their dart guns. Each man took a position from where they had a clear shot at each of the Crixa's sentries, "All right, remember, it has to be done fast, before someone realises what's happening and sounds the alarm. Once the guards are secure, we secure the nitroglycerine and then storm the place. Get ready Major!"

Taking aim, Alan fired at the first sentry; the dart found its mark right into the rabbit's neck and the burly guard instantly crumpled to the ground unconscious. At the same time, McEwen shot the second sentry, also knocking him unconscious. Soon, all the sentries were down, not one having managed to raise the alarm. As the men switched to their firearms, Bigwig, Hazel, Fiver, Silver, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Blackavar and Campion descended into the unguarded Crixa and stormed the entrance. The sound of growling and pounding inside indicated that they had overpowered those in the chamber beyond. Hyzenthlay followed them in, Alan and McEwen picking up the rear.

The two men instantly went for the canisters while the rabbits secured the entrance. While McEwen held the first canister still, Alan gently cut through the duct tape that held the lightning rod attached to the improvised pipe bomb. Tossing away the rod, that was meant to trigger a detonation, the two men slowly lifted up the first nitro canister and carried it out of the warren. Carefully laying down flat in the middle of the Crixa and placing some stones around it to keep it immobilised, they turned to the second canister.

Just as Alan had removed the rod and was about to move the seemingly safe canister away, McEwen suddenly shouted, causing them all to jump, "Wait, stop! Don't move it!" The strong acidic smell instantly told Alan what was the trouble; looking down to where McEwen was staring, he saw a large puddle of sizzling, oily liquid. The canister had sprung a leak, spilling its deadly contents all over the burrow floor. They carefully laid it back down flat and backed away, expecting an imminent chemical reaction that would cause it to detonate and blow them all into oblivion. Fortunately, the oily liquid only continued to sizzle and bubble, as it continued to leak from the canister, drop by drop. Alan and McEwen sighed with relief.

"We can't risk moving that one; a stray drop could cause the whole thing to detonate instantly. We just have to leave it where it is and not disturb it."

"What about the warren?" Campion exclaimed, "You said Efrafa will be destroyed unless we get rid of these things!" Alan looked at Campion sadly, "It's too late Campion. The nitroglycerine has soaked into the ground and can't be cleaned up. The best we can do is to evacuate everyone out of here as fast as we can. One of us will have to stay here to guard the entrance and make sure nobody goes anywhere near these canisters. Remember, if someone so much as touches them, in an instant we're all be dead."

"Right then. Silver, you stay and for Frith's sake, don't let anyone near those things!" Bigwig ordered the massive Owsla soldier, "Bite and scratch at anyone who tries to get close if you have to. Understood?" Leaving Silver on guard, the rest of the group set off into the depths of Woundwort's domain.

With Campion, Hyzenthlay and Blackavar in the lead, the group ventured deep into the seemingly endless, underground domain of tunnels and chambers. Every now and then, they'd stumble across a surprised guard, all of which instantly taken down before they could sound an alert. Reaching the main aisle that run the full length of the slaves' quarters, they saw the same miserable population of weak, malnourished and sickly-looking rabbits which lived for the sole purpose of slaving in Woundwort's name.

Just as the murderous dictator had said, there were no runts or disabled rabbits among the groups of suffering inmates occupying the side burrows projecting from the aisle. Like inmates of a concentration camp, these rabbits were grouped and lived like cattle, with every aspect of their lives under strict control.

At the sight of Alan and McEwen, there was instant tension and fear among the Efrafans, as they became aware that there were _humans_ trespassing in the warren. But a loud series of stamping from Campion managed to restore silence and order, as the Efrafan slaves obediently turned to their former captain of Owsla, flanked by the two ringleaders of the recent escape. Alan smiled, realising that Campion was respected even among the slaves for his decent nature, while the rest of the Owsla were only respected out of fear. Hyzenthlay too, was being stared at with an expression of trust and admiration, like a matriarch. This didn't surprise Alan, remembering how she had always represented her peoples' best interests and openly opposed Woundwort's tyranny, which had eventually almost resulted in her being executed for treason. Even Blackavar, who bore the evidence of Woundwort's cruelty, yet stood strong and determined, was being stared at with expressions of awe at his bravery. But this was not the time to recall past achievements.

"Campion, you, Blackavar and Hyzenthlay start leading them outside but do it quietly. When you're all assembled in the Crixa, lead them to the secret tunnel in small groups at a time. Make sure you're not spotted, or we'll have the entire Efrafan army upon us before we know it. Go!" While the three rebel Efrafans led the slaves away, Alan and the rest of his group ventured deeper into the warren in search of their missing friends and Woundwort.

They walked down a familiar passageway that led into the Pit of Death, the former launch bay of Project Black Inferno, where the rest of their friends were imprisoned. The entrance had been tightly sealed with a massive boulder, which none other than the burly Efrafans could budge. With Fiver standing watch, Hawkbit and Dandelion started digging a pothole beside the boulder, with Alan, Bigwig and Hazel putting all their weight and muscle against the obstacle. Heaving with all their might, the boulder finally rolled sideways into the pothole, unblocking the entrance to the pit.

The sight awaiting them on the other side was a mixture of shock and joy: lying around the bottom of the pit were Project Black Inferno had once been, were Holly, Clover, Bluebell, Vilthuril, Thethuthinang and Blackberry, looking battered, bruised, starved and dehydrated, but still alive. There was a moment of silence as the miserable group realised who it was, before rushing foreword to greet them, expressions of surprise and disbelief written on their faces. Holly reached them first, staggering from lack of strength or perhaps from the shock at seeing his 'dead' comrades standing before him, Clover at his side.

"Alan…, Hazel…, Fiver…, Bigwig…, Hawkbit…, Dandelion…," the former Sandleford Captain of Owsla stammered in disbelief, staring at each of them in turn, gaping like a fish out of water, his companions following suit. Just like everyone else in this new timeline, they too undoubtedly believed Alan and his group to have perished in their earlier escape. "How did you…? Where…? Woundwort said you had all been killed…"

"It will take much more than a bunch of miserable Efrafan scum to finish us off Holly," Bigwig replied, beaming at his former commanding officer. A tearful Vilthuril had thrown herself at an overjoyed Fiver and the young couple were nuzzling each other lovingly. The rest turned to Alan, their expressions of shock having turned to relief, realising that they were saved. Only Bluebell had a grim expression on his face. There was no need to ask why; he had been separated from his beloved one and probably believed Violet to be dead. Alan bent down to reassure him.

"It's all right Bluebell. Violet is safe and waiting for you back on the Down with your children…." The instant he uttered those words, Bluebell gave a triumphant laugh of joy, as he lunged himself at Alan, pinning him to the ground just like he had done before, when the man had saved his mate from the hawk, "You old duffer, I don't know how in Frith's name to thank you! If anyone ever says humans are evil again, I swear I'll give him a tongue lashing!" the jester rabbit chanted in a comical tone, nuzzling Alan's face in gratitude and causing the others to snigger in amusement. Alan.

"As glad as I am to see you buddy," Alan said, ruffling the fur on Bluebell's head, blushing beetroot red in embarrassment, as he gently pushed Bluebell off of him and got to his feet, "at the moment, there is no time to enjoy a reunion. So far we've been lucky to infiltrate this place without been discovered. We must move…"

"You mean no one knows you're here? How in Frith's name did you make it past the defences…?" Thethuthinang gasped, as Alan hastily distributed the last remaining food and water rations he had in his pack among the last six survivors, to help them regain some of their strength so they could run.

"A circumstance of good luck, and a touch of cunning and trickery, as El-ahrairah would say," he explained, telling them how they used Vervain's secret entrance to sneak past the unaware Efrafan Owsla and storm the unguarded warren. "Oh boy, I sure wouldn't want to be in Vervain's place, when he has to answer to Woundwort for his mistake."

"I hope Woundwort makes him suffer," Vilthuril said coldly, "That cruel, heartless brute made a sick sport of assaulting and tormenting every doe in Efrafa as he pleased. We were all his amusement slaves and could do nothing about it. Only when Campion would step in, would he leave us in peace."

"It was him who suggested to Woundwort that we be sealed in here and left for the elil to pick us off one by one; Nildrohein was snatched away…" Blackberry added sadly, causing Alan's heart to sink, at the thought of how badly Strawberry would take the news of the death of his mate, whom he had tried so desperately to protect by deserting Cowslip's warren and joining them.

"It is only thanks to Blackberry's beautiful mind that no one else was taken," Holly said, "We'd cover ourselves in mud left by the rain and lay still, so the elil couldn't track us." They all turned to look proudly at Blackberry, whose idea of the camouflage had kept them alive long enough for Alan and his party to get to them. Then, suddenly the man noticed that some of their friends were still missing. "Where is Nelthilta? And Buckthorn? And Silverweed? Why aren't they here?"

"They were taken elsewhere for interrogation," replied Thethuthinang grimly, "Every day, they'd come and take us one by one before the Owslafa to be interrogated on your whereabouts. Hyzenthlay and Blackavar were taken first, to be killed, and we later heard the guards say they had escaped with Campion's help. Buckthorn was also taken this morning and never brought back; we think he might have been killed. They took Nelthilta too, a little while ago; Woundwort found out about Silverweed's seer abilities and intends to use his powers to break our minds, to learn your whereabouts…"

"Then our next stop is the Council chamber," Alan said, drawing his shotgun and loading it. Their original plan of breaking out their friends and all the Efrafan prisoners without a confrontation had just been scrapped; it seemed they would have to confront Woundwort directly to save all of their friends. The others all gasped in shock at this reckless decision.

"What! You can't go there!" Thethuthinnang protested, "You are Woundwort's most wanted enemies. He'd kill you all on sight if he catches you here!"

"I am afraid she is right," Bigwig said, "Not that I have any fear of fighting that miserable excuse for a rabbit to the death, but we have a responsibility for the others. If we are discovered now and the Owsla alerted, this entire mission will be ruined!"

"Woundwort will come after us anyway unless we stop him. He told me himself, that only death would ever stop him in his pursue to destroy us and enslave your world. This is the perfect moment to strike, now that he is vulnerable and unprotected. We won't get another chance like this; one bullet through his head and his tyranny will be finished for good."

"And we still have an obligation to our friends still in Woundwort's captivity," Hazel added, "Nelthilta and Silverweed are one of us now, as much as Buckthorn is; if there is a chance any of them are still alive, we have to try and save them as well."

"What about the High Council?" Vilthuril asked, "Each time one of us was dragged in for interrogation, the entire Owslafa was present, along with hrair Owsla officers and plenty of guards. Can you fight them all?" Alan smiled at the small doe, "Our weapons are more than a match for that bunch of oafs; they'll probably surrender with the first demonstration. Besides, I wouldn't care I had to fight an entire army; three of our friends are still in there and we aren't going to leave them behind, not while we know they're still alive."

"Right," Bigwig growled, the strategy wheels turning in his head, "McEwen, you and Fiver get the others out of here and then go and help Campion with the evacuation. Do it as quietly and as fast as you can. Alan, Hazel, Hawkbit and Dandelion and I are going to give Woundwort a proper greeting. Let's go!"

They set off deeper into the warren, heading towards to the Council chamber. They could hear voices coming from inside the large cavern: a voice of crying and pleading and another of cold laughter and malice. The occasional chilling sound of slapping and pummelling could be heard, indicating that someone was currently being interrogated under torture.

Silently stunning the guard outside the chamber entrance with his Taser, Alan peered inside to a chilling sight: Woundwort stood atop his usual platform, staring with sickening satisfaction at the prisoner before him. Nelthilta stood at the foot of the platform, looking bruised and utterly terrified. The sadist Officer Chervil was circling her, every now and then clawing or pummelling her on Woundwort's command.

Standing in a circle around them like judges at a mock trial, were the Owslafa and the other high-ranking officers of Woundwort's inner cycle, except for Vervain who was absent and Campion who had been declared a traitor. Also, standing beside Woundwort's platform, flanked by two guards, was Silverweed, looking utterly miserable as he watched the young doe being tortured before his eyes, but unable to do anything to help her.

"No, please don't! You are hurting me!" begged Nelthilta, as Chervil continued to pummel her mercilessly over the head with his heavy paw. Woundwort raised his paw, signalling Chervil to stop, "Leave the doe alone you fool. She can't talk if you cuff her to death!" he growled, as he turned his sinister red eye to the panting doe, "Now, ready to answer some questions _truthfully_, Nelthilta?" he asked in a sickly sweet voice, as if talking to an immature child, "You'll do your race a great honour and repent for your crime if you do as you're told. Now then, where are the rest of the outsiders and the talking ithe you and your friends so foolishly befriended?"

"I swear to Frith, I don't know! Please, I beg you, have mercy…" the young doe cried miserably, causing several Council members to sneer maliciously. Woundwort turned to Silverweed, "My brilliant seer, use your powers to break into her mind and extract all her memories for me. Let's find out if she's lying or not!" Silverweed hesitated.

"Master, that…that could break her mind! I…I won't do this!" Woundwort's red eye narrowed dangerously, but then his face formed into a sinister smile as he turned back to Nelthilta's torturer, "Chervil, amputate the prisoner's ears; let's see if her screams of pain will boost the confidence of our seer, so he can learn to obey orders without hesitation." In an instant, two thickset guards pinned the frightened doe to the ground, while Chervil grabbed hold of her left ear between his jaws, like a bloodhound about to rip a bite out of a juicy steak.

But just as he was about to administer the bite that would leave the doe disfigured forever, a sound unlike anything any of them had ever heard before, filled the air. Chervil felt a sharp pain in his chest as his heart was instantly blown out, before he crumpled to the ground dead. The remaining Council officers all jumped to their feet in terror, completely overwhelmed as to what had caused this sudden and horrific death. Turning towards the entrance, they spotted Alan and his companions, the smoking shotgun that had killed Chervil clutched firmly into the man's hands, now aiming directly at Woundwort, "Tell your goons to let the doe go at once, or you get the next bullet! Now!"

There was a moment of silence, before Woundwort's roar of rage broke the silence, "Kill them!" Two of his bolder guards sprang at the intruders, only to be instantly shot dead by Alan's gun, before they'd even gone two strides. The rest of the Council officers backed away cowering, terrified by the lethal power of the weapon, which completely outstripped any strength they had. In that moment of distraction, Nelthilta got to her feet and run to hide behind Hawkbit, still trembling violently.

"Frith of Inle, that ithe is the paw of the Black Rabbit himself!" one officer shouted, hesitating as to whether to attack the 'talking human with superpowers' and die like an honourable Efrafan, or back away to save his life, and risk provoking Woundwort's wrath in return. The others seemed to be thinking along the same lines, with strong emphasis on the latter, as they wearily backed away leaving their Chief exposed to the enemy. Woundwort, furious at seeing his officers cower, jumped down from his platform roaring, "You miserable, insolent cowards! You are all a disgrace to Efrafa if you fear a filthy human, a creature inferior to your noble race!" He turned back to Alan and his friends, his grotesque face twisted with hate and rage.

"Well Time Traveller, I have to admit, it has been a long time since someone has been able to impress me like this. You and your little friends have done exceedingly well, the way you managed to cheat death at every turn. So now, you've come back to challenge me again? Very well then, I challenge you to single combat; this way, both my deluded officers and your pitiful friends shall bear witness as to who is the true master of this world. Do you concur to fight me, so we may put the strength and skills Frith gave us to the test? Or would you rather kill me with that alien weapon of yours, like a coward?" Although Alan wasn't happy with a hand-to-hand combat with Woundwort, this could be his chance to prove to all these brainwashed Efrafans present, that their dictator wasn't invincible. He looked coldly at Woundwort, "You want a _fair_ duel? Very well; a fair duel it is!"

"Such a pity all your efforts with turn out to be in vain," Woundwort sneered, as Alan put aside his shotgun and drew his sword from his belt (the one he had used earlier against Robbins), ready to face his foe, "Mark my words ithe, after I've killed you and your friends, I'll finally expend my domain across the world using that destructive power your foolish companion bribed me with, in hope of satisfying his injured pride…"

"You'll find your pitiful ego won't help you now," Alan retorted calmly, "Your victims are finally about to take their justice!" A large circle formed around them, as the remaining Owslafa as well as Bigwig and the others gathered around, to witness the dual that would determine the path of victory. The two opponents circled each other, Woundwort extending his claws and fangs while wetting his lips, as if about to devour a rather juicy rat, while Alan calmly kept his eyes fixed on his foe, the sword pointed directly in Woundwort's face.

"My second is Bigwig," the former marine said, as he braced himself for combat, "Who is yours, General?" Woundwort only sneered, "I don't need a second; no other creature other than my direct heir is worthy of succeeding my leadership. You foolish human are about to learn the consequences for defying the dominant creature of this world. I hope you have enough decency to accept the pain and die honourably, when you realise your pathetic strength and trickery are no match for me."

"By all means, General Cyclops," Alan replied mockingly, giving Woundwort a mock-like bow of salute, "And I hope _you_ are capable of digesting about twenty inches of steel once I am through with you! I doubt even your cannibalistic diet can guarantee you such a strong metabolism." Woundwort's grotesque smile turned to an ugly glare at Alan's words; he didn't like his secrets being revealed in front of his Council. The two foes continued circling each other and then suddenly, they struck.

With a roar, Woundwort sprang at Alan with the wildness of a charging lion. In a swift move, Alan flashed the sword through the air, opening a deep cut across Woundwort's chest. But the wild rabbit, who didn't even seem to even register the pain, charged again, delivering a powerful blow that struck Alan across the chest, tearing straight through his shirt like a razorblade and opening a deep cut that started oozing out blood.

Struggling to ignore the pain, Alan struck back, aiming for Woundwort's throat, trying to hit the rabbit's carotid artery. But the savage rabbit was too fast and, dodging Alan's sword, delivered another blow that found the man in the abdomen, sending him flying across the room like a discarded rag doll and slamming into the far wall.

Bruised and seeing stars, Alan slowly got back his bearings. Turning back to the fighting arena, he saw Bigwig had taken on Woundwort and not doing much better. The vicious tyrant had pinned Bigwig down and was mauling the Owsla veteran, using both teeth and claw; Bigwig's yells of pain filled the chamber, as Woundwort slashed and clawed at him, slowly skinning him alive. The evil rabbit laughed maliciously, tormenting his soon-to-be victim, "No more human protector to save you now Thlayli," he sneered maliciously, while Bigwig struggled in vain to throw Woundwort off of him. The time for fighting fair was over.

With his sword lying out of reach, Alan drew his pistols from their holsters. Struggling to keep his shaking hands steady, he took aim and fired at Woundwort's head. But the evil creature, probably having heard the hammer of the pistols click, turned round and saw him, consequently moving his head away from the path of the bullet. Instead, the shot struck his left ear, blowing a hole straight through it. Roaring with pain and disorientated from his own blood clouding his eyes, Woundwort slid sideways, allowing Bigwig to break loose and deliver another kick at him, knocking him off balance. Woundwort furiously returned the blow, sending Bigwig flying several feet and crumpling to the ground unconscious.

Shakily getting to his feet, Alan resumed the fight with Woundwort, this time using his pistols for defence. But unfortunately, Woundwort seemed to know the weakness of firearms: the limited ammunition. Alan kept firing at him, but Woundwort's sense of timing was too good, as he dodged each shot, moving like lightning in every direction.

Soon Alan had used up his last bullet and tossed away the empty revolvers, now having nothing left but his fists to defend himself with. He still had his dart gun tucked in his belt, but it only had two darts left which was no good against Woundwort's swift manoeuvres. He succeeded in delivering a powerful right hook straight into Woundwort's jaw, but his opponent was faster and, with a powerful leap, pinned Alan to the floor, his immense weight nearly crushing the man, "This time it ends for you, Time Traveller. Farewell, you troublesome scum!"

"NO!"

Suddenly, a figure leapt out from the crowd, knocking Woundwort off of Alan. Growling furiously, Woundwort glared at Nelthilta who froze in fear, realising she had literally poked a sleeping giant in the eye, "How dare you, you insolent little field mouse! Strike your own Chief? You shall die for this!" Raising a paw, he struck the petrified doe over the head hard; with a cry of pain, Nelthilta was knocked to the ground. Woundwort towered over her and raised both paws, about to deliver a fatal blow. But it never came, because in that moment of distraction, Alan drew his dart gun and shot a dart straight into Woundwort's turned back.

Fighting the drowsiness and quickly building paralysis, Woundwort turned round and, using all his remaining strength, rammed Alan, sending them both over the edge of the shaft that led to the burial chamber. They both plummeted to the bottom, landing on the semi-eaten, decaying carcasses of the many rabbits that had crossed paths with Woundwort and his ancestors.

Groaning from the many aches he felt all over his body, Alan lay panting amidst the rotting skeletons, when he was suddenly startled by a paw nudging him on the elbow. Brandishing his dart gun, expecting to see Woundwort, he lit his flashlight that penetrated the darkness, revealing a terrible sight.

Lying beside him was Buckthorn, looking in such a terrible condition it made Alan sick; the buck's abdomen was ripped open, his entrails spilled out beside him, yet still attached to the inside of his mutilated body. Apparently, he had refused to cooperate and Woundwort had done this to him and then tossed him down here to endure a few endless final hours of pain and agony as punishment. A quick glance at the ghastly mess confirmed Alan's suspicion that Buckthorn was beyond help. Sure enough, the dying buck stared at him with a pleading expression, mouthing, "Kill me…please, kill me…have mercy…"

Nodding in understanding, Alan raised his dart gun and fired his last dart at Buckthorn, hitting him square in the chest. The doomed buck's face formed into a painful smile as he muttered his last words, "Thank you. You've done well old chap." Then the anaesthetic took effect and Buckthorn slipped into a peaceful sleep in which he'd die painlessly. Sure enough, as soon as the buck was unconscious, Alan, panting heavily, grabbed hold of Buckthorn's head and wrung his neck, ending his friend's suffering.

He turned away from the dead rabbit, self-hatred and shame burning up inside him. Crawling a short distance away from the body, he retched, disgusted by what he had just done. Then he spotted Woundwort lying unconscious nearby.

He crawled over to his nemesis, a boiling rage flaring up inside him, intent on making him suffer the most painful death he could inflict, to avenge Buckthorn. The fallen dictator lay still, anaesthetised by the dart. Smiling in satisfaction, Alan stared down at him, muttering in a cold voice, "This is more than what you deserve, you miserable bastard. I hope you rot in hell!" Grabbing hold of Woundwort's head, he was about to snap the evil rabbit's neck as well, when a more fitting punishment came to mind.

"No Woundwort," he whispered coldly, "Killing you in cold blood is too easy and I will not let you have the satisfaction. That sorry task I shall leave to those whom you've wronged so greatly; your slaves will now be your judges, to decide on your miserable fate!"

Turning back towards the shaft, he saw someone drop down a rope for him to climb up. Tying the end around Woundwort's waist, he grabbed hold and climbing up himself. Up top, he found his friends, the Efrafan Owslafa and the slaves too, all present in the Council Chamber; the news of Woundwort's downfall had already spread throughout Efrafa like lightning.

They pulled him out and he sat down on a rock to rest. The Watership Owsla and the does gathered around him, nuzzling him in silent fondness, muttering their praises. The Efrafans on the other hand, were all bowing, staring at Alan and his friends with expressions of awe and fear. Undoubtedly influenced by Woundwort's ideology, they respected only the strongest and since Alan and his band had just triumphed over the seemingly invincible dictator, they now saw them as their new masters.

Leaving the battered Alan in the care of the does, McEwen and the others pulled Woundwort, still secured to the end of the rope, up as well. Expressions of shock and amazement spread all around the chamber as the Efrafans stared at their defeated dictator, now unconscious. Many however wore expressions of fury as they realised Woundwort was still breathing. Seeing his enemy about to regain consciousness, Alan, with McEwen's help, using a couple of spare harnesses, bound Woundwort's forepaws and hind legs securely together, like a sheep for shearing, to keep him restrained. Sure enough, not a minute too soon, the evil rabbit slowly opened his eyes, confused; his lost expression turned to shock and outrage as he realised he was a prisoner.

In an instant, several of the spectators, including many of the slaves, had darted forward, jeering at Woundwort's defeat, while uttering dark threats of revenge for the suffering he had put them through. Blackavar, the ringleader of the mob, sneered at Woundwort, who was helpless other than to glare back at his tormentors.

"See that, you monster?" growled Blackavar, cuffing Woundwort across the face, so he could look at the slave rabbit's shredded ears, "You enjoy causing pain? Well, we'll rip your ears as well as your eyes to shreds! We'll let you know what our pain feels like!"

"Yes, give him a taste of his own poison!" someone shouted, "Let's see how much torture the 'mighty' General Woundwort can take before he starts begging for mercy!" To Alan's surprise, Woundwort didn't seem the least afraid or remorseful, as the crowd of vengeful slaves shouted out his fate, staring silently back at them in disgust, as if they were the filth he was always regarded them.

"You old rogue!" sneered Nelthilta, stepping forward, intent on extracting some revenge for the suffering he had put her through, "You'd starve us, would you? You'd torture us to death! Everyone, bow to the mighty master of all rabbits! Oh, wait, he is no leader; he is just a fraud and a pretender, with a hot temper!" she mocked him, remembering what Alan had told her and her friends the night they had first met. The others laughed and continued jeering and taunting Woundwort mercilessly, until Campion stepped forward, to break up the rabble.

"That enough, all of you!" he bellowed, "They'll be no more killings or torturing among us; that's why we are taking the warren. This is not a revolt for revenge, but for claiming back our rights as rabbits!"

"We'll have something to say about that, sir!" snarled Blackavar, "What are we going to do with this cringing bit of filth?" Campion considered for a moment; although he wanted his former Chief punished for his crimes, he didn't want to follow his example of administering, what Woundwort regarded as justice.

"For now he will remain a prisoner under heavy guard; when the time comes, he can be called answer for everything he has done before an Owslafa of true justice, so he may have a chance of speaking to his own defence. Then, he can officially be stripped of his authority as Chief and banished. Anyone who wishes to follow him, may also go with him if they choose…"

"No way," barked Blackavar, "He is far too dangerous alive; I say we rip out his throat and feed him to the elil…!"

"That's enough Blackavar!" roared Campion, "The General's fate will have to wait; right now, I want you to help the others in the evacuation. Make sure everyone understands that they are free and not prisoners of war. Go on!" Blackavar nodded curtly and ushered the rest of the slaves away. Alan now understood how Campion retained his authority, despite being one of Woundwort's highest-ranking officers; in contrast to his corrupt Chief, who enforced his authority through fear and brutality, Campion _earned_ his through kindness and compassion towards his fellow Efrafans. Woundwort seemed to realise that as well, as he turned to his former Captain of Owsla.

"Campion, I appeal to you; make those traitors put aside this madness and everything will be forgiven. I give you my word of honour!" Campion however gave him a cold shoulder.

"You have no honour sir! I have seen enough to know that you have lied to us, abused us and murdered so many innocents for a false cause, which is an insult to our heritage. I only wish Frith had opened my eyes sooner…"

"You have no idea what you are doing!" barked Woundwort, "Just you wait; that ithe will turn against you when it's in their best interest and make you into slaves! You will regret me, mark my words!"

"Then, I'd rather be a slave to an honest human that a servant to a lying monster like you!" said Hyzenthlay, who was tending to Alan's bruises from the fight. Her normally warm and friendly voice was now cold as ice, "At least he didn't murder my parents or make me a concubine to that miserable wretch Vervain!" she spat furiously. Alan could have kissed the doe for her loyalty to him if he wasn't aching so much.

Soon, the Council Chamber was empty, and had been converted to a temporary prison for Woundwort. Campion had assigned several trustworthy guards to stand watch outside the entrance, making sure the prisoner didn't escape, but giving him some decent privacy. Still bound and helpless, the fallen tyrant lay at the foot of his usual platform, defeated and humiliated, with nothing left but a mindful of dark thoughts of revenge.

Author's note: Is the story over yet? No, not by a long shot! In the next chapter, the real battle commences. Do enjoy and please review so I can update faster!


	49. Chapter 49 The Battle of Efrafa

Robbins and Pete had reached Efrafa. While Pete taxied the aircraft along the side of the cliffs towards the entrance to the secret tunnel, Robbins rigged the last nitroglycerine canister, improvising another pipe bomb that would be used to seal the doom for Alan and his companions. He turned to Pete, "Everything is set; get me close to that cave opening."

Pete obediently taxied the aircraft close to shore, looking wearily at the bomb in his master's hands, "I still don't understand why you still want to make sure Johnson and his friends don't escape. We have their only aircraft and the time warp will soon close up forever; they'll be stranded in the future for good. We needn't bother with them anymore."

"We needn't bother with them anymore only _after_ I've seen them die with my own eyes. That fool Johnson has no intention of ever returning home anyway, because he has become the bloody god-protector of these pathetic talking furballs. Simply stranding him in this future world is too good for him; it is my life's oath to deprive him of every last bit of happiness he has, or is ever likely to find," Robbins sneered evilly, an insane gleam in his eyes. Pete looked troubled.

"What's your endless grudge against Johnson? I know Sergey was your mentor and you always liked to keep him impressed, but he is dead now and his life's work is ruined; Johnson's death would be pointless. From the moment Sergey declared him a threat to Red Hand, you were the first to volunteer and requested that you be given the privilege of killing him your way. Why?" Robbins' expression turned dark at Pete's bold question.

"If it's any of your business boy, Johnson stole something away from me and I won't rest until I see him suffer for it! He's going to see all his newfound friends blown to bits before his eyes while I laugh with satisfaction at his pain of loss!" Pete paled in horror.

"You mean, you intend to kill them all, simply to satisfy your grudge? That's mass genocide!" Pete protested, looking appalled at the thought of killing so many innocents, simply to crush the spirit of one man. Being a recent Red Hand recruit, who had only joined in for the money, he didn't know what true servitude to Red Hand really meant and lacked the nerve of having so much cold blood on his hands. Robbins only smirked evilly.

"You kill a few people, they call you a murderer; you kill many, then you're a conqueror. Such was Sergey's philosophy of life; mercy and compassion are for the weak and life doesn't pity the weak. It's always survival of the fittest and the fittest are the _winners_, not the losers. I suggest you get that into your skull, if you know what's good for you." But Pete, realising his master was going too far, pressed the matter further.

"I don't care what that psychopath lectured you all about! What you're about to do is a sick violation of humanitarian law that could get us both killed, not to mention an awful lot of innocents that have nothing to do with you! I was sent here to find you and bring you back, not engage in a goddamn massacre!" Pete bellowed, causing Robbins to lose his patience at being disobeyed.

"SHUT UP!"

Brandishing Alan's knife, he grabbed Pete by the neck and stabbed him in the abdomen. Blackish blood burst out of a gaping wound, as the blade punctured the liver. The man's eyes widened in shock, as the deathblow hit him. He struggled to fight off Robbins, who only laughed and stabbed him again, this time through the lung.

Mortally wounded, Pete crumpled to the floor of the cabin. Robbins pushed him towards the rear of the cabin, muttering, "I hate whiners." The last words that escaped through Pete's mouth, before he succumbed to his injuries were, "I hope Johnson sends you to hell!" Robbins only laughed cruelly at his latest victim, "Not before I bring hell on earth for _him_!" He spat at Pete, just as the man's eyes rolled back in his head and he breathed his last breath. Max Pete was dead, murdered by his own associate, for showing compassion.

Robbins wiped the knife clean on Pete's trouser leg and sat in the pilot's seat, taking control of the floatplane, taxiing towards the cove. Mooring it on the edge of the cove, he disembarked, taking the canister of nitroglycerine with him, looking for a perfect spot to plant the bomb, which would cause the tunnel to go up like a volcanic tube, annihilating Johnson and his friends when they came through. Then he would be home free with his bounty, which would sell for a fortune back home and help him rebuild his life.

Meanwhile, back in the deserted Council Chamber, Woundwort, finding himself alone, had finally managed to chew through his nylon harness binds, freeing himself. However, noticing the guards standing watch at the entrance to the chamber, their backs turned to him, muttering to each other, he stayed put, trying to think up a logical course of action.

Although he could have easily attacked and killed those guards and escaped, what could he do? There was no one left to help him and attempting to retake his warren single-handedly, would be fruitless, even for a brute like him. Maybe he should settle with killing as many of the outsiders and deserters alike as he could in revenge, until he was overpowered and killed? At least that way, he'd die fighting, a far more dignified fate than a helpless prisoner…

The outsiders had ruined everything for him; now all the slaves, as well as the Owslafa had deserted his rule and pledged their loyalty to the enemy like cowards. That despicable human had stolen everything he and his ancestors had worked so hard to achieve for generations. As he sat there, contemplating taking his own life or making a last stand now that he had nothing left, Woundwort suddenly remembered that it still wasn't over...

_The Owsla! Those outsiders managed to infiltrate the warren so easily, because those incompetent fools weren't here to defend Efrafa. They must still be stationed out there waiting for further orders, and they outnumber the outsiders and all those insolent cowards that have deserted to their side._ Quickly thinking up a plan of action, Woundwort got to his feet and, silently approached his guards.

The guards stood their posts as ordered, yet lost in confusion at what had happened tonight. The General had been overthrown by his enemies, yet the outsiders hadn't taken them prisoner or harmed them in any way, like they would have expected. Instead, Campion, Hyzenthlay and Blackavar had passed the word that they had been offered a new home, away from Efrafa and free of the tyranny they had known all their lives. What kind of enemy would risk their lives in overthrowing the most feared warrior in the Meadows of Fenlo, only to offer them their _freedom_? Not something an Efrafan saw every day!

And then there was the enigma behind those mysterious talking humans, who had apparently been the masterminds behind all this. Although it was clear by now that these strangers were definitely not the normal savage creatures they knew, and despite their apparently good intentions, many of them felt unsure about placing their trust in these mysterious creatures that carried weapons and gadgets that far outstripped any force the General had ever mastered. It just seemed so unnatural.

Unfortunately, their thoughts had caused them to forget that they were supposed to be guarding literally a box of dynamite waiting to explode if left unwatched…Thus, they realised their mistake too late, before they found the General springing at them. Within seconds, both guards were down, as Woundwort mauled them to death, doing it as fast as he could, before their cries could attract attention, feeling no remorse whatsoever; those two had betrayed him and deserved to die, just like the other traitors.

Making sure nobody had seen him, he made his way to the secret back entrance, used only by officers in an emergency. Meeting no one on the way, he made his way out of the warren unnoticed, and made his way towards the ruined Man Burrow, to recall his soldiers to battle. He smiled maliciously; soon, his enemies, as well as the traitors that had joined them, would suffer the same fate as that insolent buck he had dissected down in the pit for daring to defy his sacred leadership.

Unaware of Woundwort's escape, Alan's band slowly led the Efrafans out of the warren and assembled them in the Crixa, so they could be evacuated in small groups at a time, to avoid attracting attention from the Owsla. A heavy rainstorm had broken out by now, reducing visibility to zero and giving them further cover from prying eyes. Alan had given instructions to Bigwig, Holly, Silver, Bluebell and Campion, each of them to escort a Mark to the secret passage, one at a time, and then come back for another group.

Campion had suggested that they approach the Owsla and announce Woundwort's defeat so his former troopers could assist in the evacuation as well, but Alan didn't want to risk it just yet; although with Woundwort defeated they would probably surrender to the victors just like the rest of the warren had done, there was still the risk of some cynical Owsla officer assuming control and ordering a counterattack. And Woundwort or not, the Efrafan Owsla still outnumbered them.

They agreed that after the evacuation was complete, they would approach the Owsla and announce Woundwort's defeat; if those brutal soldiers, which formed the majority of Woundwort's forces, surrendered peacefully, they would also be included with the other recruits. If not, they would be forced to maroon them on the island along with Woundwort, to avoid any further trouble.

The storming of Efrafa had so far been successful; they had liberated a total of sixty slaves and does, as well as several of the Owsla and Owslafa officers, which had surrendered peacefully. All these new recruits, the majority of which were graving for freedom, would be more than enough for Watership Down to thrive wonderfully and even help establish a new warren, for the Efrafans to start anew.

With all the evacuees grouped according to their Mark, Campion, Bigwig, Holly, Silver and even Hyzenthlay had each been assigned team leaders to a Mark, ready to move them towards the secret tunnel. With the exception of Chervil and the two Owslafa guards that had been killed during the siege, as well as the loss of Buckthorn and Nildrohein, no one else had been hurt, much to Campion's relief.

As the evacuation commenced, Alan and Hazel reassessed; aside from their new recruits, all their friends had been accounted for, minus Derek, who was still missing, probably dead. Alan had told Hazel about how he had found Buckthorn in the burial pit and resorted to put him out of his misery. The sore lump of guilt in his stomach eased up, as Hazel, although shocked, reassured him that it had been the right thing and that no one would blame him. Even Bluebell, despite feeling extremely distraught at the news of his cousin's death, as well as Speedwell's injury, didn't express any anger or hate towards him. Alan grimly thought of Speedwell and how the buck would take the news of his twin's death, if he survived?

His painful thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Nelthilta nudging him on the elbow. The small creature looked up at him with shy eyes muttering, "Thank you for saving me. I…I suppose humans aren't savage brutes after all." Alan chuckled slightly, accepting the apology, remembering how Nelthilta, like many others, had initially been rude and distrusting towards him because he was a human. He smiled at the young doe, gently patting her between the ears.

"You're welcome sweetie. I also ought to thank you for helping me during the fight; that was impressive courage," he said, remembering that if Nelthilta hadn't built up the courage to strike Woundwort at the right moment, he would have been killed back in the Council Chamber. Nelthilta blushed under her fur at being praised like that, especially since she had felt anything but brave, when Woundwort and the Owslafa had been torturing her for information. Nodding in gratitude, she joined the rest of the does, as they prepared the last of the Marks for evacuation. Hyzenthlay smiled at Alan.

"That was very nice," she said, "But I don't know why you'd waste your mercy on Woundwort; he doesn't deserve it." Although Alan fully agreed that Woundwort indeed deserved no mercy, the same impulse that had struck him down in the burial pit was still fresh in his mind.

"It's just that I didn't think my friends would have wanted me to sink to his level," he said, "Besides, if we were to put him up against the wall now, we'd be giving him an easy way out. This way, he will have to answer for everything he's done; and being at the mercy of his victims is far worse than dying. That can be a first step in dismantling his tyranny for good." Hyzenthlay, more or less satisfied with Alan's explanation, nodded and turned back to her task.

The Crixa was nearly empty now; only Alan, McEwen, Campion, Hazel, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Fiver and the Efrafans of the last Mark still remained. But just as Bigwig returned and signalled to Campion to lead the last group away, one of the officers came running into the Crixa, looking terrified.

"What's the matter, Groundsel?" Campion asked sharply, signalling to the Mark to halt. Owslafa officer Groundsel took a second to catch his breath, before bellowing, "It's the _General_, sir! He and his Owsla have circled the warren and are closing in on us!" Sure enough, as they all turned to stare at the rim of the Crixa, the forms of no less than one hundred savage-looking rabbits appeared, surrounding them.

Ignoring the fearful gasping and whimpering from the Efrafans that hadn't been evacuated in time, Alan and McEwen brandished their weapons, preparing for, what would probably be, a last stand. It was impossible to deny it; they were completely surrounded by an army of killer rabbits, all specifically handpicked by their master for their strength, courage and loyalty, and outnumbered at ten to one. Staring at his companions, he saw some of the Owslafa officers that had surrendered, instantly desert their side and rejoin Woundwort's ranks. The mob parted, revealing Woundwort, now back in control, smirking triumphantly.

They all braced themselves for the imminent attack; Alan, McEwen, Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Campion and several remaining Efrafans loyal to Campion, against a hundred or so bloodthirsty troopers, led by Woundwort. Alan sighed; if their weapons failed them, they would all be doomed for sure.

Meanwhile, Hotdog, soaked and cold, was furiously paddling downstream, preying he wasn't too late. Suddenly, the Island of Efrafa loomed into view ahead of him; he could see the floatplane moored in a small rocky cove at the foot of the cliffs. Nearby was the opening to a narrow tunnel, probably leading up to the plateau-like island. He made for shore.

Finding the aircraft unguarded, he pulled alongside and climbed onto the pontoon of the Skytruck. Brandishing his trusty baseball bat, he opened the door and climbing onboard. He cringed as he spotted Pete's bloodied corpse lying on the floor between the forward passenger seats, _He even turned on his own henchman…Selfish bastard!_

Turning back to the pilot's console, he hesitated for a moment. This was his chance to steal back the plane back and maroon Robbins on the enemy island where he belonged; unfortunately, he knew Alan and the others were also up there somewhere. If he went looking for them and Robbins made it back to the plane first, they'd all end up stranded and Robbins would escape.

Thinking furiously of some solution to this problem, suddenly a soft meowing noise caught his attention; turning round, he spotted a haversack lying on one of the seats with the kitten Robbins had snatched away, curled up inside it, calling for its mother. Carefully, he picked up the small creature and tucked it safely into his jacket pocket. He felt the little creature curl up inside, seemingly content.

Doing some quick thinking, Hotdog came up with an idea; bending down to a cover on the floor between the pilots' seats, he opened the fuse box that controlled all of the plane's electrical systems. Carefully, he removed the fuse that controlled the engine ignition and tucked it safely in his pocket. With the aircraft now immobilised, he got off and followed Robbins' trail up the tunnel.

Alan and his army of ten were ready, with Woundwort and his army of one hundred also in position around the Crixa, posed to attack. Brandishing a revolver in one hand and his sword in the other, Alan kept his eyes fixed on the menacing mob, muttering, "Come on you dogs and taste the steel of Alan Johnson!"

Woundwort stepped forward, a gleeful expression written on his grotesque face, as he sneered triumphantly, "It's over for you outsiders; you and your human protectors will all die and the rest of your friends shall live out the rest of their lives in slavery! My rule shall come to pass and nothing shall ever stand in my way ever again!"

"You'll eat those words, when I send you back to the lair of the Black Rabbit, where you came from!" Bigwig growled back, glaring fearlessly at Woundwort, who only smirked in reply, "I am the right paw of the Black Rabbit himself, you fool! My ancestor single-handedly eliminated the entire race of your precious protector as well as your dear El-ahrairah…just like I am going to do with you too. OWSLA, DESTROY THEM!"

Like a massive body of water, the Efrafan army came surging forward into the Crixa, while Woundwort stood on the rim watching, what he expected to be, the ultimate demise of his enemies. Alan and McEwen suddenly sprang into action, "Welcome to the 28th century!" They opened fire, mowing down the first wave. Woundwort's soldiers were instantly dropping like flies, either caught in the path of a bullet or slain by the blade of Alan's sword. However, they seemed fearless of death as they continued the advance, ignoring those shot dead or even bothering to help their wounded comrades. Alan suddenly found himself face to face with another attacker.

As he raised his pistol to take down his opponent, he felt his insides curl up in anticipation, as he realised how young the buck was. Definitely no older than Fiver but with a murderous look in his eyes that the timid seer never displayed. Alan felt his hate for Woundwort intensify as he realised this young buck was probably one of many child soldiers, trained in combat to serve Woundwort's cause; undoubtedly, the buck's youth was probably meant to cause the opponent hesitation, thus allowing him to strike first, or otherwise die in the process. Dreading the thought of having to be forced to kill the young buck even in self-defence, Alan tried to reason with him.

"You don't want to do that lad," he said as the two opponents circled each other, the buck looking for a chance to spring at him, "What your Chief is doing is wrong and you know it." The Efrafan soldier only looked furious, "You dare question my master's wisdom, outsider? He will destroy you and lead our people to greatness! And I will settle with the honour of dying fighting you!"

"You won't be honoured by dieing for a Chief that tortures and kills his own people and then uses them for food!" Alan retorted, causing the young soldier to hesitate at these words. But he wasn't swayed yet, "Lies! My master is honourable and rules with justice!" Seeing that the buck was too badly influenced, Alan resorted to his last chance to save both their lives.

"If you are sure your actions are justified, then go ahead and kill me; I won't stop you," he said, placing his gun back in its holster. The Owsla buck was about to spring at him, but hesitated. Alan could see his lip trembling, tears rolling down his eyes, looking as if he was about to be sick; the influence of Woundwort's discipline wasn't enough to make him to attack an opponent who refused to defend himself. Instead, the buck turned to stare at the ground, completely at a loss. Alan knelt down to him,

"What's your name?"

"M…Corporal Moss," replied the young soldier, looking amazed that his supposed enemy would ask such a question when they were supposed to be fighting to the death! Alan gently put a hand on his shoulder, "Go and help your injured comrades lad. Get as many casualties as you can out of here." The buck run to the nearest casualty and dragged him away, out of the battlefield, to safety. Sighing with relief, Alan returned to the battle.

"Professor, I am out!" McEwen shouted, resorting to use his inoperative assault rifle as a baton and swung it at the nearest soldier. To economise his own quickly diminishing ammunition, Alan switched to his alternate favourite weapon: his sword. Using all the knife skills he had been trained with as a teenager, he resumed fighting, decapitating or maiming any soldier that went for him. Bigwig, Hazel, Fiver, Hawkbit and Dandelion weren't doing too bad either but they were all quickly tiring out and still vastly outnumbered.

Suddenly, he noticed that Campion was gone; staring furiously around, he couldn't see him anywhere, only spotting the members of his Mark, all of them having fallen to the Owsla, their broken and bloodied bodies lying scattered around the Crixa. Before he knew what was happening, he was once again caught in a fight with Woundwort. The killer rabbit, as strong as ever, seemed ready to rip him to pieces, yet Alan managed to retain his cool.

"How's your digestion now, General of Mockery?" he asked mockingly, brushing away Woundwort's blows with his sword, "Ready for those twenty inches of steel I promised you?" he laughed as he fought, despite feeling doubtful that he'd live long enough to deliver them. Despite his amazement of seeing his opponent laugh in the face of death, Woundwort didn't lose his swagger.

"Why throw your life away Time Traveller? Your skills are too good to be wasted. Why not surrender peacefully and join my side? You'd make a fine addition among my ranks. I'll even spare your friends' lives in exchange for your cooperation…" But Alan only shook his head in firm refusal.

"Someone else asked me that very same question, not so long ago and I told him, just like I am telling you now: I only choose the _right_ way, and the easy way be damned. Can we say the same for a scumbag like you?" Ignoring the insult, Woundwort sneered in realisation, "So it was that pathetic fool, the Threarah of Sandleford who assigned you the task of helping these renegades establish a new warren? That pitiful old cretin thought he'd use you to extract revenge on me, for what I did to his warren, when he refused to join forces with me?" Alan's heart skipped a beat; the _Threarah_ had intended to use him as a weapon against Woundwort all along? His mind flashed back to the late Chief Rabbit's last words: _Do everything within your power to protect them from any harm lurking out there_. Could that 'any harm' bit been referring to _Woundwort_? As if reading his mind, the ruler of Efrafa went on speaking.

"Yes ithe, it had been foretold since the time of the Four Brothers that some day Prince Rainbow would deliver an intelligent human into our world, a human that would influence the balance of power; one of the two sides would destroy the other and establish dominance forever. The Threarah was a descendant of the fools El-ahrairah and Rubscuttle; he knew about your existence just like I did, but the proud fool didn't want to associate with humans because your ancestors failed his people long ago, when you let El-ahrairah fall to my ancestor. And now, thanks to that fool Robbins, I have finally fulfilled my ancestor's dream: to take control of man's destructive power, the power to rule the world!"

Catching Alan by surprise, Woundwort suddenly brushed away his sword and delivered a powerful blow that the man couldn't dodge in time; Woundwort's steel-like paw impacted with his left forearm and then Alan felt a sharp pain just above his elbow, as the bone fractured just below the wrist. Gritting his teeth with pain, he sunk to the ground and his sword fell away, out of reach.

As the pain receded somewhat, he looked down and saw his forearm was starting to swell; although luckily not a complete fracture, it still required medical attention. But there was no time to think about that now, as Woundwort pinned him down, an insane gleam of triumph in his good eye, "No one to save you this time, ithe. Send my regards to the Black Rabbit of Inle!" He barred his fangs, preparing to strike Alan in the throat like a lion.

Suddenly, a familiar brown-furred rabbit appeared out of nowhere and rammed Woundwort hard in the side, knocking him to the ground. Campion stood fearlessly facing his former chief with an expression of hatred. Woundwort narrowed his eyes, "Come back to seal your fate, traitor?" He was about to spring at Campion as well, but Alan, who had recovered his sword in the distraction, stabbed Woundwort in the shoulder, driving the blade to the hilt, straight through the muscle and bone. The evil tyrant snarled in pain and crumpled to the ground, struggling to shake the blade out of his shoulder.

"Forgive me General," Campion replied coldly, "but I can't let you lead us down this dark path of yours any longer; it is my duty to protect our people, even from _you_. ATTACK!" They all turned to look at the rim of the Crixa and saw that Campion had summoned back the other Marks for a counterattack; Alan could also see Silver, Holly, Bluebell and the does among the Efrafans. Now, with their new reinforcements, they were evenly matched against Woundwort's Owsla. Alan could hear the former slaves chanting, "Freedom, freedom, freedom!" over and over again as they charged, striking back at those that had stolen so much out of their lives.

Woundwort's troops were beginning to fret; now _they_ were the ones surrounded, putting them in a very vulnerable position. Despite that, they still retained the upper hand with their superior size and strength, while the Efrafan slaves, although just as fearless, were all weak from malnourishment and inexperienced. The Efrafan Owsla ruthlessly retaliated, killing or maiming any opponent that came their way, in spite of how many of their own comrades were overwhelmed by their former slaves.

Seeing the battle was about to reach a dangerous stalemate, Alan suddenly saw their chance: the two forgotten nitroglycerine canisters lying outside the entrance were the perfect weapon to wipe out Woundwort and his army in one strike. Detonating them right there and then was out of the question, with members of their own side among the mob; however, if they could lure the enemy back into the deserted warren and detonate the canisters underground, would blast the enemy Owsla to oblivion.

Signalling to McEwen to retrieve the intact canister, leaving the leaking one in the Crixa to blow up the entrance, he turned to Bigwig who had just finished subduing another burly opponent, and whispered his plan into the veteran's ear, so the Efrafans couldn't hear him.

"Get everyone together; we will retreat underground, luring the Efrafans down there with us. Then, we use the secret exit on the other side to circle round and bar the entrance and blow up the warren with those bastards inside!" Bigwig nodded and called out aloud, "Retreat underground! We'll fight them in the burrows!"

They retreated down the entrance that led into the warren's assembly chamber; the Owsla seemed to buy the trick and followed suit, attempting to corner them below. While the Watership Owsla kept the enemy at bay, Campion led the slaves towards the secret exit on the far side of the warren, which Woundwort had previously used to escape. Passing the word that everyone was safely out, the others followed, with the Efrafan Owsla hot on their heels, luring them underground.

Knowing they only had a minute before the Efrafans realised what they were up to and retaliated, they hurryingly made their way back up top, Campion's group already doubling back to intercept the Owsla from the outside. Alan turned to McEwen, who had taken charge of the bomb, and handed him a flare, "Use this for a fuse but don't light it up until you hear my signal. If we can force those thugs underground, we'll get the others clear and detonate the other canister outside the entrance in the Crixa; you do the same with yours the second I give the word and then get clear as fast as you can. We'll meet back at Buxton Hall."

Leaving McEwen to rig the pipe bomb at the back exit, they rushed back to the Crixa. The battle was still waging; casualties from both sides littered the ground, giving the Crixa the appearance of a mass grave. The snarling, roaring and cries of pain from the wounded and the dying filled the air. Combined with the sound of the rain and thunder from the storm, the air was thick with noise. There was no sign of Woundwort, indicating that the sadistic warlord had apparently slipped away from the battle. However, there was no time to think about him now, as they saw the Efrafans were being driven back into their warren, with the slaves struggling to hold them back. Bigwig signalled to Campion, who called out, "Retreat! Everyone pull back and circle the Crixa!"

The plan seemed to work, as the Marks pulled back and circled the Crixa, cornering the Efrafan Owsla in the crater, leaving the warren's entrance as their only way out. But, unfortunately, they didn't pull back into the warren as Alan had hoped, but instead, firmly stood their ground. This way, even if Alan detonated the leaking canister outside the entrance, it would inevitably claim the lives of many of the rabbits on their side, who were currently struggling to keep the Owsla confined to the Crixa.

The enemy continued to resist, intent on smashing the blockade. Within another minute or so, they would overcome them and the plan would be ruined, leaving them fighting a losing battle. Loading his last two cartridges into his shotgun, Alan grasped it with one hand (his broken arm was too painful to move), tempted to detonate the canister in a last-ditch effort, when suddenly a voice rang out from inside the warren entrance, "Hey, you bastards, over here!"

They turned and spotted McEwen standing atop Woundwort's platform, cuddling the second canister under his arm like a baby and his trusty lighter in the other, cap open. The Efrafans, fighting without their leader around to give them orders, seeing a more vulnerable target within their reach, turned their attention away from the blockade and went for him instead. Alan and his friends stood frozen in shock, "What the hell is he trying to do?" They watched McEwen continue taunting the Owsla, as they closed in on him, while making no attempt to run or defend himself, "That's right boys; come and get me!" With a chill of fear, Alan realised they were seeing an imminent suicide bombing.

"MCEWEN, ARE YOU CRAZY? GET OUT OF THERE MAN! RUN!" Alan and the others shouted but the brave pilot ignored them, instead keeping his eyes focused on the enemy. Just as the savage rabbits were about to spring at him and tear him to pieces, he lit his lighter and, with a triumphant laugh shouted, "Behold the brightness of heaven or the flames of hell!"

Alan realised what McEwen was going to do, a second before it happened. Just as the Efrafans sprang at him from either side, he touched the flame of his lighter against the open bottleneck of the canister tucked under his arm…

There was a blinding flash, followed by two violent explosions in rapid succession, as both canisters detonated, causing the Crixa to go up like a volcano. Flames, smoke, dust, debris and the dismembered body parts of Woundwort's Owsla and McEwen, flew through the air. The shock wave sent Alan and his party flying backwards, like the force of an atomic bomb. No sooner had the blast passed, when they felt the ground start to 'ripple' beneath their feet; the shock wave had caused the caverns of the warren to start collapsing; the island was disintegrating…again. "Everybody, run for your lives! This whole place is falling apart!"

Hearing the warning and feeling the ground beneath them continue to crumble like ice, they all run for it, heading towards Buxton Hall on the far side of the island. After having run a safe distance, they all turned and stared back in the direction of the collapsing warren as it disintegrated. Alan, Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Silver, Bluebell, Holly, Hyzenthlay, Thethuthinnang, Vilthuril, Nelthilta, Blackavar, Campion, Groundsel, Moss, as well as forty other Efrafan slaves and even a few officers of the Owsla and Owslafa that had survived the blast.

The ground was vibrating, like a piece of ice floating on churning water. Deep trenches opened up in the ground, swallowing up everything; trees, bushes, rocks, the very earth itself poured into the abyss forming in the ground. The water from the canyon followed immediately thereafter, covering up the area that the warren once occupied. In an instant, it was over; Efrafa had been wiped out…again. But this time, Alan and his friends hadn't survived only to face defeat and mourn the deaths of their friends. Although the loss of Nildrohein, Buckthorn and McEwen had been a great loss, at least they hadn't died in vain. The battle of Efrafa was over; and this time Alan truly felt victorious. Unbeknownst to them however, they had missed out on one more survivor that had been unaccounted for…

In the murky water below where Efrafa had vanished, General Woundwort resurfaced amidst the floating debris of his warren. Realising the outsiders had been up to something, the General had slipped away from the battle, until he could figure out what was going on; this move had saved his life when the warren had exploded a minute later, putting him roughly out of range of the blast.

Bloodied, battered and badly burned from the heat blast of the explosion, the former Efrafan dictator stared around at the ruins of his domain that he and his ancestors had worked so hard to establish. It was all gone; that damned human had taken away from him everything he had held dear…except his life. And he would pay!

Fuelled with determination for revenge, Woundwort swam for the cove that led to the secret passage, ignoring the pain of his injuries. Pulling himself out of the water, he spotted the floatplane standing moored next to the tunnel entrance, unguarded. His first thought was to ambush them when they returned and pick them off one by one as they came through the tunnel, but then realised they were too many of them and he didn't have a single soldier left to fight on his side. Still, he'd rather die trying than let that miserable human get his way…

Author's note: The battle has been won…are has it not? Stay tuned for the next chapter when Woundwort and Robbins will finally make their moves. The part with the Thearah's plot will be explained in greater detail later. For those who liked McEwen, sorry but I had always intended him to die a heroic death from the beginning. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	50. Chapter 50 Allies and Enemies Reunited

Silent and cautious, Robbins ventured through the dark tunnel, carrying the last nitroglycerine canister, now fitted with a remote detonator, in his arms. Entering the generator room, he placed the canister beside the generator. He caressed the tiny remote in his hand, his trap all set; all he had to do now was to wait at the end of the tunnel until he heard Alan and his friends returning, and then detonate it. In this tight space, an explosion would spell out certain death with no chance of escape.

Before he could arm the detonator however, the familiar booming noise of a bomb explosion echoed throughout the caverns; not his bomb, but the other two he had bribed Woundwort with in exchange for his freedom. He had a second to realise that the canisters had detonated all right, only at the worst possible moment. An earthquake-like vibration shook the walls, making it look as if the entire cavern was about to collapse and kill him.

Grabbing hold of the canister and holding it tight in his embrace, using his body as a shock absorber to shield it, he crouched low, praying that the deadly container wouldn't detonate. Dust and debris fell all around him, thickening up the air and making it hard to breathe. Then it was over; Robbins lay curled up on the ground, pale as marble, covered in dirt and still clutching the intact canister in his arms. He paled, realising he had narrowly escaped the most ironic death possible; having his own trap backfire on him.

Staying put for a moment in case of any aftershocks, he slowly got to his feet, signing with relief at his lucky escape. But then he realised that the detonator remote, which had slipped out of his hands, had been shattered by a falling rock, rendering the detonator useless. The nitroglycerine inside the canister was still dangerous but he had lost the ability of detonating the bomb from a safe distance, as he needed. As he scanned the room, searching for anything he could use to improvise a fuse, he spotted the old generator, which gave him an idea.

Picking up the canister again, he set it down close to the fuel tank. Then, using a stone, he slowly forced open the purge valve, draining the fuel; yellowish kerosene slowly spread across the floor, forming a trail all the way down the vertical incline of the escape tunnel that led to the cove, a liquid fuse waiting to be set ablaze…

Meanwhile, back up top, Alan, his group and the surviving Efrafans stood on the edge of the new cliff that had formed following the collapse of the warren, staring at the murky water below, where Efrafa had vanished. Woundwort's domain was now but a thing of the past; all that was left to testify to the warren's former existence were the broken bodies of Woundwort's Owsla, trees and other debris floating in the water below, marking the end of Woundwort's reign of terror. By this time, the storm had passed, allowing the orange glow of the sunset to shine over the spot where Efrafa, the most feared domain of this future world, had once been.

Alan stood cradling his broken arm against his chest, his heart beating a mile a minute. Despite his injuries and exhaustion however, he felt victorious. They had done it; Woundwort, his army, and his domain had all been wiped out, finally ending the dark warlord's reign of terror over the Meadows of Fenlo. After seven centuries of animosity and conflict, El-ahrairah's legacy of peace and freedom had finally triumphed over Hemlock's of slavery and tyranny.

As a bonus to their triumph, they had also succeeded in liberating most of the Efrafan slaves and does, the majority of which were descendants of prisoners from warrens that Woundwort and his ancestors had raided and destroyed over many generations of terror and conquest; does, hlessil, ambassadors, former Owsla officers and soldiers, and even dishonoured Efrafans, all prisoners of war that Woundwort had captured over a lifetime of death and destruction, stood around them, finally free of their enslavement.

Despite their triumph however, it had still come at a price: McEwen's sacrifice had been the key to victory as well as the deaths of Nildrohein, Buckthorn and a dozen other Efrafan slaves that had died fighting Woundwort, all of which would be remembered as heroes. Even Woundwort's Owsla, who had all perished without ever being given the chance for redemption would be laid to rest with decency. However, it was of deep consolation to all of them, that all these deaths hadn't been wasted; the destruction of Woundwort and his domain meant a new and better future for all of the survivors.

Vervain lay alone in his dark prison, his limbs slowly going numb from his duct-tape binds. By now, Vervain felt stiff, thirsty, lonely and afraid. It had been several hours since the outsiders and that damned ithe had left him trapped into this small dark room, with nothing other than his own thoughts for company. Ironically, being stuck in a similar situation as many prisoners under his care back at Efrafa had been, the memories of him gloating in satisfaction over their suffering, hardly amused him at this point, not with the tables having turned against him.

As he lay there, miserably wondering if the outsides intended to just leave him here until he starved to death, he heard a terrifying booming noise in the distance and felt the floor vibrate beneath him. Small bits of debris fell from the ceiling all around him, giving him the impression that the whole man-burrow was about to cave in and bury him alive, but it didn't happen; in an instant, the disturbance had stopped and the silence returned. The truth hit him like lightning, as he realised he had just heard Efrafa being destroyed by the outsiders.

Some time later, just as he was just about to give himself up for doomed, he suddenly heard voices and footsteps approaching from outside. He recoiled, afraid of whom it might be, when the freezer door swung open, letting the evening twilight that filled the ruined building, pour in. Vervain looked away, his eyes having become unaccustomed to light. Slowly staring back at the door, he saw the outsiders staring down at him with cold expressions.

Alan, Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig and Campion stepped into the freezer and crowded around Vervain, whose eyes were round as marbles, probably thinking they had come to finish him off. Alan ripped off the duct tape gag, causing Vervain to hiss in pain as it ripped out a few patches of fur in the process. The evil rabbit looked up at his nemesis with wide eyes, muttering, "Are you going to kill me now, embleer ithe?" Alan and the others only frowned.

"No, we aren't…only because you aren't worth it." Vervain regained some of his swagger as he shouted, "Release me at once! YOU EMBLEER HRAKAMARLI…!" Bigwig furiously cuffed him across the face, "You watch your mouth! If you ever call someone like that again, I swear to Frith I'll…" But Alan gestured to Bigwig to restrain himself before turning back to Vervain.

"Shut up and listen. Now, you deserved to be punished for everything you've done; you can either accept it honourably and perhaps learn from it or we'll make you curse the day you were ever born. Just think: we could tell the world how you assaulted and harassed all the does at Efrafa…"

"I swear to Frith I never…" Vervain pleaded pathetically but Alan ignored him, "…or how you abused and mutilated prisoners for your own sick amusement. Imagine what life would be like if they knew about all this everywhere you go; you'd be hated and scorned at every turn, much more than even humans ever were. There's no more Woundwort around to protect you anymore; any mistake you make from now on, you pay the price!" Vervain's face turned milk white under his fur as he realised his seemingly invincible master had indeed been defeated by a mere _human_.

"However," Hazel said, "Just to show you that we don't take pleasure in making others - even the likes of you - suffer, something you Vervain know nothing about, we aren't going to make your name stink all the way from here to Frith's Heaven, nor are we going to kill you. Instead, mostly thanks to Campion's request, we are letting you go free, unharmed."

"However," Bigwig added sternly, "I hope, for your sake, you don't underestimate our leniency; you aren't getting any more chances. If you cause any further trouble for us, or anyone else for that matter, you'll live to regret it! We don't need the likes of Woundwort or his lackeys to do our dirty job; there are Frith-knows-how-many Efrafan slaves and does outside that would gladly volunteer to amputate your whiskers or ears as payback for the abuse you put them through, wouldn't you agree?" Vervain's mouth opened but couldn't find his voice. True, all those rabbits he had abused and harassed for his own amusement, now free of their imprisonment, would be upon him like elil if given the chance. As if reading his mind, Alan went on speaking.

"To put the circumstance in a nutshell, Campion will ensure your safety from the mob outside, so you may have a safe passage off this island with everyone else, instead of being marooned here all alone. Once we've reached safety however, you are to leave and never return. Where you go or what becomes of you, we can't foresee and nor do we care; your future is entirely up to you. Do we have an understanding?" Vervain nodded slowly.

"You've been given a second chance in life, Vervain," Fiver said coldly; even he, who was the most forgiving rabbit in the group, hardly believed Vervain deserved any leniency for his crimes, "Perhaps this time, you'll do something better with it." By this time, Vervain looked utterly depressed, all his arrogance gone. Although he would get to keep his life and freedom, now he would have to face the dangers of the real world all by himself and he had little experience, having spent most of his life giving orders from within the safety of Efrafa. Despite that, he'd rather spend the rest of his life in exile rather than be made to answer for his crimes.

"We can consider the matter closed," Alan said coldly, "But if you decide to go back on our agreement, I give you fair warning that we'll hunt you down, even if we have to journey all the way up to Scotland to find you. We'll catch you, beat you raw, and then I'll personally rip out your liver and cook it for breakfast. Do you understand?" Vervain slowly nodded, unable to master to courage to retort. Satisfied that the evil buck had gotten the message, Alan took out a penknife and cut through Vervain's binds. In a moment he was free.

"Think it over Vervain," Hazel said sternly, seeing Vervain's vengeful expression, "Nothing has been hurt so far but your pride; maybe next time you won't get off so lucky." Vervain, who had just gotten to his feet, his limbs stiff and aching after being bound for so long, looked back at them with a furious glare.

"You needn't fear about that; I intend to think it all over _very_ hard. Make no mistake about that!" Without another word, he turned and walked out of the freezer, where he broke into a run and disappeared out of the room. They all looked at each other frowning, Vervain's threat not having gone amiss.

"He's going to be a thorn in our side Hazel," Campion muttered grimly, "Soon or later, he's going to cause trouble; the likes of Vervain, coward or not, would _never_ miss an opportunity for revenge."

"Even better; that should give us the opportunity to beat him raw right now," Bigwig growled, feeling disappointed that they weren't going to pummel the living daylights out of Vervain right there and then. As they made their way back upstairs, they realised Vervain hadn't gone to join the rest of the Efrafans; instead, he had fled down the secret tunnel that led towards the cove. Bigwig frowned, "Should I go after him?" Alan shook his head, "No need; he'll be back soon if he wants to get off this island. The coward doesn't have the guts or the ability of swimming to safety." They turned and headed back upstairs to join the rest of the group assembled in the smoking room, to take a headcount and treat the injured.

Vervain run as fast as his legs could carry him down the tunnel towards the cove at the foot of the cliffs. Although the outsides had been merciful, he knew there would be absolutely no way the Efrafan slaves and does would be the same, regardless of Campion's authority. After all, _he_ was the one who had spent a lifetime ordering prisoners punished, only because most of the slaves were of untrustworthy alien heritage while his fellow officers were loyal, pureblooded Efrafans.

Although Woundwort had known about his cruelty and abuse all along, he had always chosen to ignore it, probably believing Vervain's discipline encouraged obedience and helped crush the will for rebellion. But now it was all over; with his master gone, there was nothing from keeping those former slaves from tearing him to pieces in revenge if they saw him. With a burning burst of hate and jealousy, he thought of Campion who, thanks to his popularity among the slaves, had always been respected, regardless of being Woundwort's second-in-command.

Making sure he wasn't being followed, he made his way down the semi-collapsed tunnel, intent on finding a way out of there. Perhaps if he managed to escape, he could somehow make his way out of the meadows of Fenlo and find some other human-hating warren that would take him in. Maybe he could return someday with another, bigger army and have his revenge against the outsiders that had ruined his life. He had no future left here; even if they could forgive him, he could never hope of being reinstated as an Owsla officer. And as for the Owslafa, which only existed to enforce Woundwort's tyranny, would probably be abolished altogether. And to have to beg Campion for mercy would be a blow to his pride that he could never live down.

Meanwhile, Robbins had finished rigging the improvised fuse for the pipe bomb; the kerosene he had drained from the generator tank was now all over the place, forming a trail all the way down the tunnel that led to the cove, where the plane was docked. The canister lay in position, right beside the generator; all that was needed now was to set the trail of kerosene ablaze from the cove and then he would have about one minute to get clear, before the flames would reach the canister and cause it to detonate, destroying the escape tunnel, along with Alan and his friends, who were expected to come back through here any moment now.

His trap set, Robbins turned and headed back down the passage towards the exit, to wait for Alan's arrival. Stepping out into the cove, he saw it was nearly nightfall; the sun had almost completely set, except for a faint orange glow on the western horizon. He would have to leave quickly, or he would have to wait till tomorrow morning, to have the right visibility for take off. Staring up at the dimming twilight of the sky, he could barely make out the faint rainbow colours of the time warp; it was horribly weakened and receding fast, indicating that it was about to recede any minute now, ending all further time travelling. This was his one and only chance of ever returning home.

Taking out a signal flare from Pete's survival kit, he lit it and tossed it on the ground, just outside the tunnel entrance. He could see the kerosene from the generator slowly trickling downhill, heading towards the burning flare. Within another two minutes or so, the flame would make contact with the fuel and start an inferno that would instantly spread up the tunnel, all the way to the generator room. By the time he was airborne, the island would be blown sky-high, along with Alan and his friends.

But when he tried to start the take-off procedures, he found, to his utmost shock, the plane's ignition had inexplicably gone dead and unresponsive. He turned to stare at Pete's body, thinking that maybe the man was still alive and had sabotaged the aircraft in his absence, but saw the corpse exactly where he had left it, completely undisturbed. Then he also realised the kitten he had snatched from the Honeycomb was gone and that there was a new footprints on the cabin floor that hadn't been there before, as well the dingy moored beside the aircraft outside. In an instant, he understood.

"It must have been that black riff-raff Boone," he mutterer in silent rage, "I should have slit his throat when I had the chance. But no matter; when I catch him, I'll grill him into a hotdog instead!" Picking up Pete's revolver and a flashlight from the survival pack, he got off the plane. Hastily picking up the flare from the ground and tossing it into the water to put it out, since he didn't want to set the bomb off just yet, he turned and headed back towards the tunnel. Before he could get there however, he collided head-on with another figure, who came running out in the opposite direction. They both gasped in surprise as they recognised each other; Vervain in particular, looked as if he had seen a ghost, "Y…you again?"

"Yes me," the man replied coldly, yet satisfied that he had just found himself a potentially new associate to replace the traitorous Pete; one who, most conveniently, probably had all the inside information he needed to know about the situation above and plan his next move. "And you're right on time too…"

"What…what do you mean?" Vervain muttered, slowly backing away, unsure if the man standing before him meant to kill him in revenge for Woundwort leaving him to die back at the HAB. To his great relief, Robbins' answer was music to Vervain's ears, "To help me kill that miserable faggot Alan and his friends up there. Now tell me, what is the situation up there? I heard an explosion a few minutes ago; how many are still alive?"

Satisfied that Robbins was still on his side for the moment, Vervain told him everything that had happened: the defeat of Woundwort, the destruction of Efrafa and how the outsides and their human friend had emerged victorious and with a large band of recruits. By the time he was done, the wheels in Robbins' head were turning like mad, "I see… So they've accomplished what they came here to do and are now about to make their way home without a care in the world, to pop open the champagne of victory. It is absolutely perfect."

"_Perfect_?" snapped Vervain indignantly, "Embleer Frith, how can you call the situation perfect? Woundwort is gone, Efrafa is destroyed, and I have been reduced to a banished hlessi by those outsiders! Your 'perfect plan' to help the General bring Efrafa to glory has ruined my life! So what do you want from me this time?" Robbins, who was fighting the urge to laugh at Vervain struggling to restrain himself from lashing out at him and provoke his wrath, replied, "I am about to offer you a marvellous opportunity you can't possibly refuse," he replied, "That fool Woundwort may have gotten himself killed with his own folly, but _we_ are still far from finished as long as we work together…"

"Don't you dare insult the General's memory, you embleer…" snarled Vervain in anger, causing Robbins to frown dangerously, "Your master made a big mistake when he left me to die; for your sake, I would seriously advise you not to follow his bad example." Vervain gulped and fell silent as Robbins went on speaking, "As I was saying, I can make it up to you for the life you've lost, by offering you a new life…back in _my_ world!" Vervain gasped, "_Your_ world? Are you suggesting that I come with you back to your time, so you can make me your _slave_? You've got hraka for brains if you think I…"

Robbins only laughed, "On the contrary, you would have power beyond belief back in my own time. Just think: We'd both have the power of controlling the future as we please. You could prevent the rise of El-ahrairah and ensure Hemlock alone rises to power. Together, we could reshape the future as we see fit and then return to a new world as heroes, or even better, as rulers." Robbins smiled, as he saw Vervain's eyes gleam at his words, "Revenge against that miserable human and those outsiders…by wiping out they entire bloodline from history? That would be so glorious…"

Although the part of offering to share with Vervain the power to change the future was practically a bluff to regain his trust, Robbins, influenced by his own words, had his own plans flashing through his head, _With this idiot Vervain at hand, I'd be a millionaire in no time at all; I'll soon have all the money to finance a return expedition with scientists, game hunters and investors, to colonise and strip mine this future world for an even greater profit. Why, I'd have a whole planet at my own disposal!_

"So what do we do now?" Vervain asked. Robbins turned to look back at the aircraft, "They have taken the system fuse and we must retrieve it to make our escape. Since they need the aircraft to get off this island themselves, they have to come down here any moment now. And when they do…we'll be waiting to give them a proper greeting!"

"But there are hrair of them and only two of us!" screeched Vervain, "They'd overpower us in the blink of an eye! The outsiders have already warned me it will mean instant death for me if I interfere with them again…" But Robbins wasn't listening to Vervain's qualms.

"Look, the tunnel is narrow, so they can only come through one at a time. If I know Alan well, it will be either him or Hotdog that will be leading the way down here. All we have to do is take the two of them down, take the fuse off of their bodies and then we set the tunnel ablaze, to finish off the others behind them. With a bit of cunning and swiftness, we can single-handedly wipe them out with one blow and then we'll be home-free!"

Meanwhile, Woundwort, who was hiding on a ledge above the cove, was eavesdropping on the conversation. When he had spotted Robbins returning, he had been ready to spring at the traitor and tear him to pieces for what had happened to Efrafa because of his 'special gifts', when he saw Vervain also appear.

Fully aware of both their shared desire for revenge against that despicable human that had also destroyed his domain, he had remained out of sight and heard the two of them plot the destruction of the outsiders' band. He had literally just found the way to extract his own revenge against his enemies without even having to fight!

By an unbelievable stroke of luck, he would literally be killing two birds with one stone; Robbins would kill the outsiders for him and then he would finish off Robbins if he survived and maybe even give that coward Vervain a lesson or two for his treachery. Once all his enemies were dead, he could capture the outsiders' warren and start rebuilding his empire; his legacy would live on and nothing would stop him…

Author's notes: The battle is over…but now the defeated seek revenge. Coming up next, Robbins and Woundwort strike…In the original draft, Woundwort revealed himself to Robbins and Vervain and the three of them formed the plan together. However, I scrapped it, believing that Robbins wouldn't want to cooperate with someone who had tried to kill him. By the way, _hrakamarli_ is a Lapine swearword I made up, which means someone of low birth. Enjoy and please review so I can update faster!


	51. Chapter 51 The Gift of Prince Rainbow

Hazel, Bigwig and Campion stood facing the group of nervous and bewildered Efrafans assembled in the hallway of Buxton Hall. The group of 47 has assembled, to take a headcount and treat the wounded. Alan, with Fiver and Silver's help, were moving around, providing first aid to the worst injured from the battle. Alan had wrapped his broken arm in a sling and secured it around his neck, easing up the pain and allowing him to work with his remaining good arm.

Although only a few of the surviving escapees had suffered serious injuries from the battle, the effects of malnutrition, scurvy, confinement, as well as the physical and mental abuse had taken their toll on the former slaves of Efrafa. All of them were deathly thin and sickly, with shabby fur, making them a horrible sight indeed. As Alan tended to the injured, cleaning up bites and scratches, he couldn't help but realise how depressed and fearful most them were in his presence, as well as from suddenly finding themselves in the outside world for the first time.

As he turned to tend to another casualty, a former slave judging by his ghastly appearance, the frightened rabbit knelt before him, like a servant before his master. Alan sighed as he saw the buck's crushed spirit, with its dull, frightened eyes and drooped ears, "You don't have to do that to me; you aren't a slave anymore." The buck cringed and pulled away as Alan gently tried to apply a compressor pad to his injured leg, terrified of being handled by a human. Just as Alan was thinking how he could persuade the poor creature that he meant no harm, the young soldier, whose life he had spared during the battle, Moss came to his aid.

"A layth nahl mul es nao. Mul bleth a methyl1." The slave rabbit, seemingly encouraged by the Owsla Corporal, obeyed and held out its injured leg so Alan could patch him up. Alan turned to smile at Moss, the only survivor from Woundwort's Owsla aside from Campion, who nodded respectfully, "I owe you my life outsider; no Efrafan soldier would have ever spared an enemy like you did." Over his head, Alan could see Campion beaming at them; it seemed his people indeed had a chance of starting anew.

Just as Alan had finished patching up the last of the wounded, Holly, Bluebell and Blackberry came back from scouting the remains of the island for any other survivors that may have slipped out, "That's the lot of them," Holly informed Hazel and Bigwig, "Everyone still alive has been accounted for."

"I think we can start moving then," Hazel said, "Campion, get them ready!" As Alan felt in his belt for his walkie-talkie to signal Hotdog for transport, he realised he had lost it during the battle. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was nightfall; they were past their deadline for radioing back to Honeycomb, which meant Hotdog had to be on his way already to check on them. There was only one thing for it then, "Bluebell, you and Fiver go down and see if Hotdog has arrived yet, so we can start moving everyone out." The two rabbits set off down the secret tunnel towards the meeting place, where they were supposed to rendezvous with their pilot, to take them home…

Meanwhile, Hotdog, dirty and bruised, still cradling the content kitten in his pocket and brandishing his trusty baseball bat in his hand, was struggling to navigate the semi-collapsed tunnels of the mine. After coming to a fork, leading in opposite directions, he had flipped a coin, turned and headed in the wrong direction; in the direction of Efrafa! He hadn't gone more than a few dozen paces, before finding himself facing a dead end; the tunnel was completely caved in by a rock fall, caused by the explosion.

Thinking Alan and the others might be trapped on the other side of the debris that were obstructing the passageway, he picked up a jabbed rock and started digging at the cave-in, trying a clear a way through. Unfortunately, as he had tried to move some of the larger rocks, the disturbance caused a new cave-in, nearly crushing him and the kitten. Barely escaping the falling debris and realising it was definitely the wrong way, he turned round and headed back the way he had come, hoping to find another way up from the outside.

Meanwhile, Bluebell and Fiver made their way down the secret tunnel towards the escape route, to meet Hotdog and inform him of their situation. Bluebell, who was overwhelmed at the thought of seeing Violet again soon, was grilling Fiver with questions of what had happened back at the Down. Although Fiver had reassured him that Violet was safe and had given birth to four healthy kittens in his absence, he had also admitted with a heavy heart that his cousin had been gravely injured and probably on the brink of death. Although thoroughly depressed to hear about Speedwell, Bluebell couldn't help but feel ecstatic at the news of finally having a family, since his parents, like those of many other rabbits, had perished during the plague of White Blindness that had struck Sandleford, when he was still a kitten.

In fact, Bluebell was so overwhelmed, he was distracted and not paying attention where he was going; thus, he didn't notice Fiver suddenly go tharn, as another vision appeared in his mind. Quickly recovering from the premonition, where he had seen Bluebell struck down by a hidden attacker, he rushed after his comrade calling, "Bluebell, wait! Stop!" But the vision, just like all others before it, had come a second too late; as Bluebell stepped out into the cove where the aircraft was moored, a hand, brandishing a knife, suddenly swung from around the corner, straight at him. Caught by surprise, Bluebell instinctively stood in an upright position to defend himself and in an instant, the damage was done; with one wild blow, Robbins drove the knife to the hilt, straight through Bluebell's upper torso. The buck's eyes widened in shock as he crumpled to the ground, mortally wounded.

Fiver, who had just caught up, watched in frozen horror as Bluebell sunk to the ground before him, the knife jabbed into his chest like a stake. Before he could try and run, another hidden attacker sprang at him from the shadows, pinning him to the ground; Vervain's triumphant laugh echoed in his ear, as Robbins, having realised it wasn't his intended victim, retrieved the knife out of Bluebell's body and marched over to where Vervain held Fiver. The evil man smirked in satisfaction as he recognised the buck he thought he had killed with the strychnine dart, back when Alan and his companions had escaped from Efrafa.

"Well, well, well…" he muttered in a sickly sweet voice, "If it isn't Alan's daydreaming, skittish runt of a pet. I recall you showed more backbone than I gave you credit for on our last meeting, when you so nobly chose to sacrifice yourself for your dear friend. Only I see you wriggled out of that one, instead of letting my nemesis' spirit be crushed with your death. A minor mishap that will soon be corrected, when I present your friends with your head, that will no longer be attached to the rest of your body!"

Fiver moaned in fear, tears rolling down his face as Robbins brought the knife, which was still dripping with Bluebell's blood, towards his throat. He struggled desperately to escape Vervain's grip, but Woundwort's former Head of Owslafa, despite being no strong rabbit, was more than a match for Fiver's small physique.

But just as Robbins was about to slit Fiver's throat open, the terrified buck saw, to his utmost relief, Hotdog appear out of the tunnel behind Robbins, moving quietly as a cat, raising his baseball bat with both hands, about to strike. But Vervain, having picked up the scent of another human approaching, turned and saw Hotdog, "Look out, behind you!" Robbins spun round and ducked just in time, as Hotdog swung the bat at his head.

Drawing Pete's revolver from his belt, he was about to fire at Hotdog, but his opponent struck first, knocking the revolver out of his hand; Hotdog instantly ducked for the fallen revolver, while Robbins, seeing he had lost the fight, seized Vervain by the scruff of his neck and jumped into the abandoned dingy that Hotdog had used to reach Efrafa. By the time Hotdog had recovered the gun, Robbins had pushed off from shore with Vervain.

Determined not to let that scum escape again so they could cause more trouble for them later, Hotdog opened fired in the direction of the dingy. There was a faint popping noise as the bullet punctured the side, causing it to go flat; in an instant, Robbins and Vervain were at the mercy of the churning water. For a few minutes he could hear their screams as they fought in vain against the current and then they were gone, swallowed up by the river.

Smiling triumphantly, Hotdog turned back to Fiver, who had run over to tend to Bluebell; although miraculously still alive, the injured buck was in critical condition, the gaping knife wound visible in his upper torso, over his heart. Stripping off his shirt, Hotdog fashioned a tourniquet and pressed it down hard over the wound, slowing down the bleeding somewhat, before turning to Fiver, "Go get Alan and the others down here fast! Be quick, he'll die!" Fiver set off at a fast pace back up the tunnel, silently praying to Frith that Bluebell's kittens wouldn't grow up without ever knowing their father.

Meanwhile, upstairs, the Efrafan evacuees were ready for departure. Following Campion's commands, the Marks had all grouped again in an orderly manner, each waiting their turn to be moved out. But just as Bigwig was about to give the word for the first Mark to start moving, Fiver appeared, looking utterly terrified, "Help! Somebody help! He stabbed him and I think he's dying!" Alan gently grabbed hold of the distraught buck, trying to calm him down.

"Easy lad, calm down! What's going on? _Who's_ dying?"

"Bluebell! Robbins was hiding down there with Vervain, waiting to ambush us. He stabbed Bluebell as he came through! Please, you've got to come!" Alan looked furious, "Bloody hell! All right, Bigwig and Hazel, you come with me! Campion, you, Holly and Silver, start moving everyone down the tunnel but stay alert! Let's move!" Following Fiver, the three companions rushed back down the tunnel. As they passed through the generator room, Alan caught a whiff of kerosene in the air and saw the leaking generator, "Bloody hell, there's enough kerosene down here to start a blazing inferno!" he muttered, shining his flashlight on the floor, which was wet with the yellowish kerosene that Robbins had dumped to use as a fuse for his bomb. Then he spotted the canister, which Hotdog had overlooked, lying against the generator.

"Bloody hell, that bastard was trying to blown us to bits!" Alan muttered, wiping a trickle of sweat from his brow, realising how close they had come to have been killed unawares. His heart skipped a beat as he thought of what could have happened back at the Down; if Robbins had escaped, then maybe Lucy, Josie and the others had been attacked in revenge? Fiver tugging at his sleeve brought him back to reality, "Alan, come on! Bluebell needs you!"

Meanwhile, Bigwig and Hazel had already reached Hotdog, who was struggling to keep the wounded Bluebell from slipping away. Although the bleeding was somewhat under control, the buck had taken a bad blow to the heart. In spite of that, Alan couldn't help but notice a smile on the buck's face, as Hotdog placed his kitten beside him. Alan knelt beside Bluebell and carefully removed the tourniquet, to take a better look at the wound.

"Jesus…" he muttered as he saw the gapping knife wound in Bluebell's chest. With sick realisation, he realised the blade had grazed the buck's heart. "This isn't good; although I doubt it is a direct hit, otherwise he'd be dead already, his heart must have absorbed part of the blow," he said, checking Bluebell's pulse, which felt irregular, his damaged heart struggling to maintain a steady rhythm. Alan narrowed his eyes in cold fury, "Robbins has crossed the lines for the last time, When I catch him, I am going to rip his heart out with my bare hands, mercy be damned!"

"A bit late for that matey; I've already fixed him good!" Hotdog replied with a triumphant smirk. They turned to look at him, "Dirty bastard tried to make a run for it in the dingy. Only, this time I gave him a little token of our appreciation!" he said, imitating shooting at the dingy with his hand, "I suspect he and his lackey are trout food by now." Alan glanced at the furious river, realising, with great relief and satisfaction, that Robbins and Vervain must have drowned, ridding them of the menace they posed. But it was of little consolation with Bluebell in this condition.

"Think he'll be all right?" Hazel asked, looking at Bluebell's nearly comatose body. Alan lost it, "How the bloody hell should I know? I am a _biologist_, not a bloody surgeon!" he bellowed, causing his companions to look at him sharply. Alan sighed, "Sorry, I just hate having someone hurt on my conscience. Robbins undoubtedly intended this for _me_; Bluebell was of no interest to him…"

"They how could you let this happen to him?" asked a cold voice from behind them and they saw Blackberry staring at Bluebell's fallen form looking furious, "How many more of us must die so Robbins can satisfy his hatred towards you?" he snarled, glaring at Alan, who couldn't find the courage to retort, realising Blackberry spoke the truth. "Ever since you came, Robbins has been targeting us one by one, to get to _you_. Well, _we_ have nothing to do with whatever's going on between the two of you. And yet, you let him drag us into his sick desire to make you suffer, by making us suffer along with you! You miserable, cursed ithe, it's all your damned fault that…" But Bigwig, furious at seeing Alan being accused like that, stepped in front of Blackberry, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"I am warning you Blackberry; if you don't watch your tongue, I'll teach you exactly what real suffering is like! Frith above, after everything we went through to bring you all back from the d…" But Hazel nudged him hard in the ribs to shut him up, before he could reveal in front of a crowd of riff-raff Efrafans, that they had used _time manipulation_ to win against Woundwort. Blackberry frowned.

"Bring us back from _where_?" he asked sharply. "What are you talking about? Does it have anything to do with wherever you lot disappeared to, after you escaped? Where in Frith's name have you been anyway? _Where_ did Alan take you?" But Fiver's voice interrupted them, "If we don't hurry, Bluebell will soon be in the grasp of the Black Rabbit!" They all turned back to Bluebell, who was slowly getting worse, looking as if he was about to slip away at any moment.

Carefully, the two men lifted him up and carried him aboard the floatplane. Gently setting him down on the floor between the seats, Alan covered him with his jacket, making him as comfortable as possible. They moved Max Pete's body out and placed it behind some rocks, until they could come back later to bury him. Then they started flattening the seats and clearing the floor of the cabin of any obstacles to make enough room to accommodate forty or so passengers in a cabin meant for twelve.

"All right, we can start boarding; the injured first, then the does, then the slaves, then the officers, and finally our group. Get to it chaps!" While the rabbits slowly helping the bewildered Efrafans aboard, Alan got on the radio, trying to intercept Josie's frequency and report their situation, "Josie, this is Alan. Can you hear me? Over? Hallo, is anyone there?"

Meanwhile, back in the HAB, Josie, Pipkin and Lucy were still trying fruitlessly to contact Alan, using the radio on the SUV. Although they had managed to power up the radio, they weren't picking up anything anywhere and quickly losing hope. Perhaps the reason for all this silence was that something bad had happened to Alan and his party? Maybe they had been captured or killed? Suddenly, as they were about to give up, they heard something that was music to her ears: Alan's voice, distant and barely audible, could be heard through the static.

"_Josie…Alan…hear me?"_ Josie instantly continued fiddling with the radio bands, until she managed to intercept the frequency where it could be heard best. Although still faint and badly distorted, she had finally established contact, "Alan, it's Josie. I can hear you!" After a few seconds Alan's voice answered, _"Is everyone all right back there?"_

"Yes, we're fine. Alan, listen. Robbins escaped with the help of that fighter pilot who came for him. They've stolen the plane and have also snatched away one of the kittens! They are coming after you with a bomb! You must get out of there…!" But, to her utter relief, Alan answered in a perfectly calm voice.

_"It's all right; Hotdog made it here in time and took care of Robbins. The kitten is safe and even that wretched henchman is dead along with Robbins. And we have won; Efrafa and Woundwort are history."_ Beside her, Pipkin and Lucy cheered in joy and relief.

"What about my husband?" she asked, dreading the answer. There was a long pause before Alan answered in a grim voice, _"I am sorry Josie; he sacrificed himself to end the war. He won the final battle for us."_ Although utterly heartbroken at the news of her husband's death, Josie couldn't help but feel a heavy weight lift off her chest; her divided heart, which had been split between Alan and McEwen, was whole again. Although she felt extremely selfish to even think about it, ironically, with her husband dead, she was now free to express her love for Alan. The man's urgent voice over the radio snapped her back to reality.

"_Josie, I need your full attention. We are bringing in many casualties, including one with a knife stab through his chest. I need you to make immediate preparations for heavy injury treatment. Is Speedwell doing any better?"_

"No, he didn't make it. He's dead." There was another long pause as Alan took in the news, before he answered back, _"All right, get everything ready; we should be there in about twenty minutes or so."_

"Alan, I want to tell you that I…" Josie said, unable to find the words, but Alan had already signed off, "…I love you." She took off the headset and turned to Lucy and Pipkin, "We have to get ready to receive and treat casualties. Come on." They returned to the Honeycomb and, after informing the others of the situation, they all got to work, preparing the Honeycomb to accommodate all the injured Alan and his group were bringing in.

Back on the remaining fragment of the Efrafan Island, Alan and his group were slowly helping their group of 47 aboard. Nervous and bewildered at the sight of the hrududu, the Efrafans slowly boarded one by one. Determined to get as many off the island as possible in the first trip, the cabin was filled to bursting, with the worst injured placed on the flattened seats, two per seat, while the rest were seated in the aisle and even in the empty luggage racks in the rear of the cabin.

By the time everyone, excluding the Watershipers, was aboard, it was way past nightfall and the moon was up. Although the men had lit their flashlights, as well as all the lights onboard the aircraft, the darkness and the mist that filled the canyon gave the place an extremely spooky appearance, much like a haunted graveyard. Hotdog had returned to the generator room and moved the nitro canister to a safe spot upstairs, where it could remain undisturbed until they could return to dispose of it. In the creepiness of night, the boarding continued without incident.

"Your turn Heather and you too Aspen," Campion said, as he carefully helped the last of the escapees aboard. Soon, the aircraft was ready for departure: Hyzenthlay, Thethuthinang, Vilthuril, Nelthilta, Moss, Groundsel, Silverweed, Bluebell, Blackavar, the kitten, and thirty other Efrafans, were all cramped onboard, occupying every last inch of space. However, none of the Efrafans complained, having long since been accustomed to spending long periods of time confined to small crowded areas, during their life at Efrafa. Campion also went along to supervise the transport, along with Hotdog who was the pilot, leaving Alan, Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Holly, Blackberry and Silver to be picked up on the second trip.

The aircraft was now filled way beyond its carrying capacity and sat dangerously low in the water, the waterline reaching to the very top of the pontoons. Hotdog turned to Alan, "That's it; no more weight or we'll capsize. Now, we're way too overloaded to fly, so I'll have to ferry everyone up river by taxiing on the water. I'll get back to the Down, drop them off and then come back for the rest of you."

"Right then, we'll be waiting here for you. When you've reached the Down, send up a flare so we know you've arrived safely; you'll be out of radio range by then. Use the radio when you return, to signal us. Remember, the microphone on my end is damaged and you won't be able to hear any reply so just keep talking and we'll know what's going on."

Five minutes later, the floatplane was slowly started taxiing along the river on full power; although way overloaded to fly, it still served as a fine riverboat. Alan and his remaining companions could hear the sounds of the fretting Efrafans cramped inside, completely bewildered by the seemingly lifeless hrududu suddenly starting moving. Alan's group watched as the aircraft slowly taxied through the mist downstream, so it could circle round the island.

"There is no point waiting down here," Alan said, "Let's get back up top and see them off safely." They hurried back up the passage, out of the manor, and made their way to the edge of the cliffs on the western side of the island. Just like on the other side, the canyon separated the island from the outside world, making it impossible to cross, with the roaring river flowing in its depths, as if waiting to swallow up anyone who tried to cross. As they stared blindly down at the soup-thick mist, they suddenly heard it; the sound of the floatplane's roaring engines, as it taxied on the water below. They couldn't see it in the dark; but they could hear it moving along the river beneath them, heading upriver, towards Watership Down.

Alan pulled out McEwen's malfunctioning walkie-talkie and heard Hotdog's voice speaking, seemingly to himself, _"Well, we're here; wherever the hell that is. The canyon is indeed much narrower on this side of the island, but I think we can make it through with a tight squeeze._ _Come on…come on…come on…Yes, we're home free and on our way back. Another 15 minutes and we're home…hot coffee, baseball on TV and maybe a cold beer…" _Then Hotdog's voice died away, as the plane moved out of radio interception. Alan pocketed the walkie-talkie and turned to the others,

"It might be an hour or so, before Hotdog returns. I suggest we return to the manor and wait there for his signal." They turned and headed back to Buxton Hall.

Meanwhile, on the side of the cliffs, Woundwort still lay hidden on a ledge overlooking the cove; he had seen the hrududu depart with all those miserable deserters the outsiders had recruited as their own. He had been ready to make his move and spring at it from above, but unfortunately, the aircraft was moving too fast and was soon out of reach. Cursing at the loss of his chance, he suddenly heard the voices of some of the outsiders, including the leader ithe on the cliff above him; the key outsiders had remained behind and were now at his mercy!

Realising that the hrududu had to come back for them as well, he decided to stay put and wait: if he waited by the tunnel entrance, where the hrududu was expected to return, he could attack as it neared shore; he would then have the key members of the outsiders' band trapped on the island and completely at his mercy. Once he had killed them all off, one by one, he could find another way off the island and recapture his minions along with the outsiders' warren and start rebuilding his domain.

Finding the body of one of his Owsla that had been killed in the devastation washed up onto the sandbank at the foot of the cliffs, he dragged it up on the ledge where he stood and started munching at it like a lion, having his fill of meat, intent on rebuilding his strength for when the hrududu would return and he would be ready to take action. As soon as his hunger was satisfied, Woundwort climbed back up and carefully made his way towards the outsiders' hideout, where he could observe their every move and know when it would be the right time to make his move.

Using the landing lights to penetrate the darkness, Hotdog carefully manoeuvred the aircraft up the river, heading towards the cove at the foot of the Down. As the mist slowly cleared and the beautiful sight of Watership Down came into view, all the rabbits started cheering at the sight of their new home, a fine change to the one they had left behind. As Hotdog neared shore, he saw Josie, carrying an illuminated lantern, rushing down the hill to greet them, Pipkin and Lucy in tow.

As soon as the plane was safely moored, Campion and his fellow officers the rest of their fellow evacuees disembark. While Pipkin and Lucy led the still bewildered Efrafans up to the Honeycomb, Hotdog informed Josie of the turnout of the battle and about Robbins.

Although relieved to hear that Robbins had been stopped, she was heartbroken when Hotdog confirmed that her husband wasn't among the survivors, realising that Alan had been right about her husband's death. However, Hotdog managed to snap her out of her miserable thoughts as he gestured to Bluebell, who was lying inside the aircraft badly injured, with his kitten still lying peacefully beside him, keeping warm from its father's body heat. Realising the emergency at hand, Josie turned to Hotdog.

"Go up to the Honeycomb as fast as you can and bring the stretcher we used for Speedwell. And don't tell Violet anything about this yet; the stress of seeing her mate in this condition could be harmful for her as well as for her young." Although she knew that Violet would inevitably find out what had happened very soon, Josie hoped she could pull herself together and focus on caring for her four kittens. She recalled painful memories of a time when she had been brought an injured doe and her litter of four that had been accidentally run over by a gardener's lawnmower; although the doe had survived, the shock of the attack had been so traumatising, her milk had dried up, forcing Josie to hand-rear the kittens herself. Unfortunately, despite her expertise, being wild rabbits they were extremely difficult to feed and two of them had died within a few days from aspiration pneumonia2.

Bending down beside Bluebell, she examined the wound and saw the knife had gone really deep into the flesh, grazing the heart as it went. Although, fortunately it hadn't been a direct hit that would have otherwise been fatal, Bluebell's heart had suffered considerable damage, as Josie felt the beat continue growing irregular and weak. She sighed, realising the magnitude of the injury; even if she could treat him somehow, it was obvious that his heart had suffered irreversible damage, making his chances of recovery extremely slim. However, she had to try her best.

As she applied fresh tourniquets and put Bluebell on oxygen ventilation, she heard cries coming from the hilltop and saw Violet rush down the side of the Down at alarming speed, Hotdog in tow. She tore past Josie and stopped dead in her tracks, staring utterly horrified at her mate, lying dying before her. She burst into tears, as she nuzzled him, begging him to awake. Josie gently put her hands round her shoulders, trying to calm her down but the doe only snapped at her hand, "No, leave me alone! Bluebell needs me!" she half-screamed, half-wept, while Josie desperately tried to calm her down.

"Dear, please, you must let me tend to him, if he's to have any chance of recovery." The doe turned to look at her, "Will he be all right?" Josie decided it was better to have Violet face the truth, rather that try to reassure her with lies, "I am afraid Bluebell has been badly hurt; I don't know if we can save him. However…" she continued, before Violet could despair, "I will definitely do my best for him. In the meantime, I need you to focus on your kittens; they need their mother to stay alive. Leave Bluebell to me." Violet then noticed her missing kitten that Josie had wrapped up in a towel to keep warm. Her face formed into a weak smile, "Thank you. Thank you so much!"

Moving aside, so Josie could tend to Bluebell, she picked up her kitten and turned back towards the Honeycomb, to tend to her litter. Meanwhile, Hotdog had caught up with them, carrying Speedwell's discarded stretcher over his shoulder. Carefully, they placed Bluebell onto the stretcher, to move him up to the Honeycomb.

"He'll need extensive care if we're going to have any chance. Are there any other injured this badly?" Josie asked, picking up one end of the stretcher, while Hotdog picked up the other end. "Only some cuts, bruises from the battle," the smuggler explained, "AJ also seems to have a busted arm, but nothing more." Josie felt the blood drain out of her face, hearing Hotdog mention fractures; that wasn't a good sign, especially when their medical supplies extremely limited. Carefully, they hoisted up the stretcher and carried it towards the Honeycomb, where the rest of the injured were assembled, awaiting treatment.

Meanwhile, back at Efrafa, Alan, Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig, Hawkbit, Blackberry, Holly, Silver and Dandelion sat by the fireplace in Buxton Hall, keeping an eye out the window for Hotdog's signal. Alan had relit a fire in the grate for light and to keep any lurking night predators away. Now that they were alone, Alan and his companions were able to explain to the rest of their friends about their trip into the past and everything they had done to correct the future. As Alan had expected, it came as an absolute shock to their friends as they told them about their adventures in Alan's time.

Silver, Holly and Dandelion were speechless; Dandelion in particular seemed almost envious, for having missed the unique opportunity of exploring the origins of their ancestors, which would have provided him with the inspiration for the greatest storytelling ever. Blackberry, on the other hand, although touched by everything they had done, seemed horrified, if not angry at the idea.

"It's not that I am not grateful Alan," he said, "But I think it was a big mistake to take the others back to your own time and then manipulate history to save the rest of us. That was a very foolish, reckless decision if I've ever heard one…"

"Excuse me," Alan retorted hotly, tired of Blackberry's disapproval at every turn, "What were we suppose to do? We saw you all die needlessly and the world destroyed! It was the only way we had left to undo what should never have happened in the first place! Hell, I took every precaution to protect the rising of your world, even going as far as to let the Old World be destroyed all over again. I still can't decide if it was the right choice…"

"Alan is right Blackberry," snapped Bigwig incredulously, "Sometimes you can be the most biased, ungrateful rotter I have ever known! Why is that?"

"Because I don't have his appetite of playing Frith with the world!" snapped Blackberry, "Just think Bigwig: suppose someone else learns this secret? It's only a matter of time before the key to time travelling comes out. Suppose it's someone who'd exploit it with absolutely no consideration of the consequences? Don't you realise they'd be a terrible price to pay?"

"It doesn't matter anymore anyway," Hazel said, staring at the night sky out the window, "Prince Rainbow has returned to his slumber; nobody will ever be exploring the past again." Staring out the window, Alan realised the Aurora was gone; any further time travelling was no more and the Old World was now truly just a memory. But it hardly bothered him, knowing he had already made a fresh start in this new century more or less. Then he suddenly remembering something.

"During the battle, Woundwort said that both he and the Threarah knew where I came from; they had actually been expecting me and each apparently wanted to use him for their own ends. But how they could have known about all of this, I don't know…"

"The Gift of Prince Rainbow…" muttered Silver in a soft voice, in sudden realisation. They all turned to look at him curiously, surprised that he apparently knew something, "What was that?"

"The Gift of Prince Rainbow," Silver repeated, "It's an ancient and secret prophecy that my uncle knew from our forefathers. He had also entrusted part of it to me when I came into his care as a kitten, under oath of absolute secrecy, an oath that I am breaking now." They all settled down as Silver explained, what probably was, the key to all this mystery.

"The prophesy talks about Prince Rainbow opening his Great Hole in the Sky and granting a mysterious gift to our kind, like Frith did with the Blessing of El-ahrairah, when our Prince received the blessings of Runner, Digger and Listener. This gift would be four humans, with skills and abilities that no rabbits possess; these humans would be destined to change our world and carve the path of our future. It is unknown whether or not it would be for the better or for the worst." They all turned to look at each other in surprise.

"I think that might explain why the Threarah initially saw us as a threat," Alan said, "Knowing that Woundwort was also after the secret, he decided it would be better if we were just killed, so we could never side with Woundwort. Like Rubscuttle had decided that the world of rabbits would be far better off without humans, the Threarah was intent on keeping Woundwort from finding the instrument he needed to conquer the world. Drake had destroyed all records of knowledge before he died so Hemlock's descendants wouldn't exploit humanity's legacy; an intelligent human – the embodiment of that legacy - could mean the key to altering the balance of power."

"This is why I didn't report you when you first came; I knew my uncle would probably do something rash like he did. When you were arrested, I argued with him that the Gift of Prince Rainbow had come true and that you were definitely on our side, given how you saved Fiver's life. He only threatened to banish me if I didn't hold my silence," Silver explained coldly, "Although the fool knew the truth about you all along, he simply chose to bury it. Because of his cowardice, so many innocent bucks and does were killed back at Sandleford…"

"There is no need to be so harsh on your uncle, Silver," Alan replied calmly, "After all, his intentions were to protect you, not to use me as an instrument of war to conquer and destroy, like Woundwort intended. Besides, his fear of me and my companions being a danger to your world was partially correct: Robbins allied himself with Woundwort on his own free will, just as your uncle had feared. Granted, his actions were indeed selfish and rash, but he wasn't evil…"

"Easy for you to say," retorted Silver, "Ever since my mother died from the White Blindness that swept Sandleford seasons ago, I had to endure his authoritarian ways all my life. Living with him, was almost like living under Woundwort. Frith of Inle, I couldn't even call him 'uncle'; he insisted I addressed him formally at all times. Even when I came of age and got drafted in the Owsla, I still had to live under a strict code of obedience. That's why I chose to befriend outskirters, rather than fellow officers (Hey, _I_ was never hard on you!" Bigwig growled incredulously). As far as I am concerned, even if he had trusted you, he would have only used you like a mindless pawn against Woundwort. True, he may not have been a killer or a tyrant, but he wasn't exactly…a decent parent to me."

"I know exactly how you feel Silver," said Alan reassuringly, "I had a similarly troubled childhood; my mother died giving birth to me, causing my older brother Royce, to be bitter and resentful towards me, sometimes even pretending I didn't exist. Then our father died too, leaving us to grow up in an orphanage; that's where I met Derek, Hotdog and another fellow called Fields, with whom I formed an everlasting friendship. They too, had had difficult childhoods; Derek's parents had died in poverty, Hotdog had criminal parents who were imprisoned for life, and Fields' parents had simply abandoned him." The rabbits all gathered around Alan, listening to his story.

"When Royce came of age and left the orphanage, he liquidated his share of our inheritance and walked out of my life forever; the only time I ever heard of him again was when I learned that he had perished at sea during the war. As per to my father's wishes, I attended his funeral with Mary and Lucy to pay my last respects. I always wanted to have a brother that I could look up to, but Royce's childhood grudge was too strong. Fields too, developed an animosity towards me, when I met Mary and eventually married her; he had also loved Mary and felt I had stolen her from him. He died in the war like Royce without ever getting a chance to make amends." He noticed Silver was on the verge of tears as he realised the similarity of their misfortunes, as he went on speaking.

"Your uncle probably felt bitter towards you because you reminded him of his beloved sister that he had been forced to drive out of the warren to die, to control the plague. It's always hard to let go of the past Silver, yet your uncle still managed to make some sort of amends before he died: On his deathbed, he finally managed to let go of his distrust towards humans when he entrusted me with your care; in essence, he finally trusted your judgement towards me. Frankly, I'd accept that as an apology."

Silver, now understanding how Alan had had a similar childhood life to him, was staring at the floor with a miserable expression, torn between his feelings for his uncle and his pride; although the Threarah had never meant him any harm, his cold and neglectful attitude towards him had earned Silver's hatred in return, although half his heart had hoped someday his uncle would someday accept him. When he had watched his uncle die back at Sandleford, he had quickly dismissed it, intent on moving on, to spare him the guilt of never getting his grip together to make amends between himself and his last living relative before it was too late.

As if reading Silver's thoughts, Hazel replied, "The best you can do now is forgive him; if he's watching you from the Land Beyond Life right now, I am sure he'll find peace within himself. Perhaps, when the Black Rabbit comes for you too someday, you'll find he's finally accepted you as well." Silver seemed to cheer up somewhat, but Alan still felt rather troubled with regards to his own past; although he had let go of Royce long ago and forgiven him for walking out on him, he still felt uncertain about Fields. While his long-gone childhood friend had abandoned their friendship out of jealousy and spite, ironically Alan had failed to give Mary the long and happy life that Fields had wanted, when he had lost her to Robbins; even if he could forgive Fields for been so selfish, could Fields forgive _him_ for what had happened to Mary?

However, his thoughts were cut short, when they suddenly saw a flare rise in the night sky, from the direction of Watership Down; Hotdog had made it back safely and was now on his way back for them. Alan turned to his friends, "That's us chaps; Hotdog is on his way back. Time to go home." Picking up his equipment, he led the way through the secret tunnel to return to the cove, where they hoped to rendezvous with Hotdog and finally get off this miserable island.

Unbeknownst to any of them however, Woundwort, who had been hiding under the window sill, listening to their conversation, was also making his way down to the ledge overlooking the river, where he would have a clear shot of the plane as it passed by, to spring the ambush…

Author's note: Sorry for the delay, but I had exams to deal with! The Gift of Prince Rainbow and the Threarah's role in it will be discussed in greater detail later. Also, the character of Fields will also prove more important than it seems... Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!

1 "He will not hurt you. Do what he says."

2 A fatal illness caused from inhaling the milk by accident during feeding


	52. Chapter 52 The Price for Victory

Josie tirelessly strode around the Honeycomb, which had been converted to a temporary infirmary for the Efrafans, tending to her newly arrived patients. In addition to those injured from the battle, she had found, to her utmost horror and disgust, many of the Efrafans were horribly malnourished, with extreme muscle atrophy from lack of exercise, overgrown teeth and failing immune systems, in addition to numerous infections caused by sores and old wounds inflicted by the Efrafan Owsla during torture sessions. Fighting the urge to have a fit, she had unpacked all the medical supplies from her infirmary and got to work, tending to each of the giant, anthropomorphised rabbits.

Although most of the battle injuries were easily treated with some stitches, bandages and disinfectants (with the exception of Bluebell, who was placed on life support), there were many others that required extended medical care. Carefully mixing a solution of vitamins and other primary nutrients for a rabbit's diet, she filled several mammal feeding bottles and administered it to those suffering from malnutrition. To those suffering from diseases and infections, she also added some simple oral antibiotics to the solution, to help boost their failing immune systems, not wanting to risk administering any vaccines just yet, since she wasn't sure if the metabolism of these future rabbits could take such medications.

While Hyzenthlay and the does prepared fresh straw bedding in the sleeping burrows, which had been converted to temporary wards for the worst injured, Josie resumed working on Bluebell. Although she had managed to stop the bleeding, there wasn't much more she could do for the buck's damaged heart, which was hanging on by a thread. After administering some shots to stimulate heart beating, she covered Bluebell with some of their spare blankets to keep him warm, before turning to Violet, who was watching her anxiously.

"I've done everything I can for him; although he's stable for the moment, I don't know if he'll recover." Violet, looking utterly depressed at the news, nuzzled close to Bluebell, as if hoping her body heat would further assist his recovery. Josie gently patted her between the ears, trying to reassure her, "Everything will be fine dear; when Alan returns, he'll come up with some way to help Bluebell. Right now, we should let him rest." Wiping her bloodstained hands clean on a towel, she glanced at her watch and realised Hotdog was late.

After he had helped Josie transport Bluebell up to the Honeycomb on the stretcher, he had set off without delay, to bring the others back as well. According to his estimates, it would have taken no more than half an hour at most for them to return; but now, it had been nearly two hours and still no sign.

Fearing that something unexpected had happened, Josie summoned over Campion, who was acting leader in Hazel's absence, "I am telling you, something is wrong. Even if Hotdog had encountered any trouble on the way, he would have at least informed us by radio. Someone should go back there and find out what's the delay."

"Easier said than done I am afraid," Campion replied grimly, "Even if we return to Efrafa on foot, we would never be able to venture inside, now that the bridge is destroyed. The only way onto that island is from the caverns at the foot of the cliffs; and attempting to swim across the river would mean almost certain death for any of us. Without that hrududu of yours that can travel on water, I don't see how we could…" But his words instantly jogged Josie's memory; although they didn't have another floatplane, they still something else that would do nicely.

"The Zodiac is big enough to carry the two of us, plus the other nine still out there. I think we can make it." Then suddenly she realised that _she_ couldn't go; Bluebell needed constant supervision, in case his heart stalled and needed CPR. But on the other hand, none of the rabbits were capable of handling the boat by themselves, making it essential for a human to be part of the search party. Although it seemed pointless, given that Bluebell's chances of recovery were drastically slim anyway, none of them were willing to ruin Violet's last hope of seeing her mate live to see another day.

However, the alternative suddenly presented itself, when Lucy, who had been eavesdropping onto the conversation, interrupted, "I can watch Bluebell while you're gone; Mum and Dad used to teach me some first aid…" Although Josie remembered Alan saying that his wife had been a nurse and that they had both taught Lucy some basic first aid techniques, the veterinarian still had doubts; even if Lucy had the general idea of how to use a defibrillator, what was the likelihood of an eight-year-old girl being able to act with accurate timing, among other important factors involved in keeping a casualty stable? In spite of her thoughts, Josie made up her mind, _I wouldn't be able to be of much help to Bluebell, given that we don't have any of the right equipment needed to keep him stable; on the other hand, Alan and the others might need help right now, help that we can offer._

After taking a few minutes to sedate Bluebell and give Lucy instructions on what to do if Bluebell 'started acting funny' and also to make her promise not to leave his side until they returned, Josie, Campion and Blackavar, who had volunteered to come help in the search, left the Honeycomb, leaving Groundsel and Hyzenthlay in charge of the warren.

They headed down to the cove, where Josie found to her utmost disappointment, that much of their equipment that they had foolishly left piled at the water's edge, had been lost when the river had swollen up in the storm; fortunately, most of the heavier baggage, including the motorboat, were still there. By torchlight, Josie unpacked the bundle of black-and-orange fabric and the wooden components of the floor, and got to work pumping up the boat. Half an hour later, the motorboat sat ready in the water. After helping the two rabbits into lifejackets, they pushed off. Although Josie had assembled the boat's engine, she kept it powered down to conserve fuel, since the strong current carrying them downstream made it unnecessary for any further means of propulsion. Using the paddles for steering, she and her two companions made their way towards Efrafa, hoping that Hotdog's delay in returning didn't spell out that Alan and the others were in trouble.

As it turned out, Hotdog's return indeed hadn't gone according to plan. Although everything seemed to be going like clockwork, Hotdog didn't realise that his friends were not the only ones expecting his return; hidden by the dark of night, Woundwort was prowling on a ledge on the side of the cliff overlooking the river, waiting for the plane to taxi by, posed to attack.

Oblivious to the danger, Hotdog continued lazily on his way, humming to himself. As his spotlight revealed the ruins of Efrafa ahead, he put on his headset, "Hey guys, I dunno if you can still hear me, I am on my way back now. I should be with you in a couple of minutes…if we don't bloody well miss you in this bloody dark that is!"

Meanwhile, Woundwort sat patiently waiting at his hiding place for the right moment to strike. Suddenly, he heard it; the faint, yet familiar alien sound of the hrududu approaching through the darkness. Kneeling low to avoid being spotted, he soon saw the hrududu's luminous eyes shining through the thick mist, getting closer and closer. Soon, the hrududu would pass right beneath him…and he would have a little reception for it and anyone riding inside it. He sneered maliciously, "The Black Rabbit of Inle is coming for you outsiders!" He positioned himself, getting ready to pounce at the approaching hrududu…

Inside the semi-collapsed caverns beneath Buxton Hall, Alan and his group slowly made their way down to the cove. Although frightfully exhausted from the battle and all the other hardships they had endured in the past few hours, they felt extremely joyful; pretty soon, their struggles would finally be over.

Waiting in the generator room for Hotdog's signal, Alan listened to his radio and was overjoyed to hear Hotdog's voice, as the aircraft came back within radio interception, _"Hey guys, I dunno if you can still hear me, I am on my way back now. I should be with you in a couple of minutes…if we don't bloody well miss you in this bloody dark that is!"_

Alan smiled; their transport was underway, to take them home. He could already smell a hot meal and feel the warmth of his daughter's embrace. The rabbits too, he could tell, were already daydreaming of reuniting with their new does. As they kept listening, waiting for Hotdog to inform them of his arrival, they heard more_, "I say, I can see one of your lookouts sitting on a ledge just above the cove…"_ Alan and the others frowned.

"Lookout? What is he talking about? There is no one left here but us. Who could it…?" As they continued to listen, they heard something that made the blood drain from their faces, _"Bloody hell, that fellow is the size of a bear and looks as if he's about to jump…!"_ In an instant, Alan understood what was going on.

"Hotdog, get away from the cliffs! It's a trap!" he shouted into his radio, only to remember that the microphone was damaged so Hotdog couldn't hear them. He turned to his companions, "Someone is waiting down there to ambush Hotdog; we have to warn him!" They hurried down the tunnel towards the cove, Alan still shouting into his malfunctioning radio, "Hotdog, it's a trap! Get away from the cliffs! Hotdog!"

Woundwort was ready; the hrududu was nearly there, luckily moving slowly, making it all too easy for him; just as the plane taxied beneath him, he gave a thundering war roar and then jumped over the edge of the ledge, landing on the plane's exposed wing…

Hotdog was nearly there. After taxiing through the seemingly endless mist for what seemed like hours, the cliffs of the Efrafan Island suddenly loomed into view in front of him like a wall. Taxiing the aircraft along the side of the cliff, he suddenly spotted the outline of a giant rabbit standing on a ledge just above the cove. Spotting him, the creature crouched low as if afraid of being seen. Hotdog rolled his eyes, _Scared at the sight of an aircraft…charming_. How little did he know that the 'scared rabbit' up there meant serious business!

Suddenly, as he neared the cove, Hotdog heard a loud, chilling roar from right above his head. Before he could inquire what kind of creature could roar like that, something heavy fell on the plane's starboard wing, its weight causing the aircraft to start tilting sideways. Staring out the window in shock, he saw, to his utmost horror, Woundwort clinging onto the wing, his immense weight pulling the wingtip down so it brushed the waterline; the aircraft was quickly losing its balance, threatening to capsize, "WHAT THE DEVIL?"

Quickly grabbing hold of the controls, Hotdog tried using the engine thrust and shake Woundwort off, but it was already too late; like a massive weight, Woundwort's 300lbs body tilted the aircraft onto its side, so that the water swamped the starboard engine; the blades of the spinning propeller were instantly shattered from making contact with the water, causing the engine to seize. Water poured into the cabin through an open side window like a sieve, shorting out all the electrics. Hotdog continued to fight with the dead controls but it was no use; the aircraft had already taken on too much water to regain its balance and it rolled over underwater, taking Hotdog with it.

Alan and his group rushed through the tunnel towards the cove, hoping it wasn't too late. As they stepped out of the cavern into the cove, a horrific sight met their eyes: Their plane was only a few yards away, drifting towards them…_upside down_! Only the overturned pontoons were still visible above water with the rest of the fuselage completely submerged, apparently having drowned Hotdog still trapped inside. And standing atop the pontoons, like a predator atop the body of its latest prey, was General Woundwort himself, looking horribly battered from his many injuries, but very much alive and dangerous. Having succeeded in 'killing' the hrududu, the evil rabbit was laughing maniacally in triumph.

Recovering from the shock of seeing Woundwort alive and from the apparent death of Hotdog, Alan furiously pulled out his pistols and tried to fire at Woundwort to avenge his friend, only to discover all his ammunition had been used up; both guns were empty, completely useless when he needed them most. Woundwort jumped from the capsized aircraft and landed in the shallow water of the cove before them, a triumphant gleam in his savage eye, his many ugly wounds making him look like a demon vomited out of hell. Behind him, the wrecked aircraft continued to drift downstream, taking Hotdog to a watery grave, "You may have won the battle outsiders, but not the _war_. Revenge is mine!"

They all stared back at Woundwort with expressions of horror and hate. The tyrant slowly approached them, a murderous look written on his grotesque face, "It's over for all of you; my new rule begins with your deaths and the enslavement of your friends. I am the bringer of doom, the right paw of the Black Rabbit of Inle himself! But never fear; you're all going to become legend, a warning to all fools who'd continue fighting a war that has long been lost…"

"GROWAAAR!"

Suddenly Bigwig sprang at Woundwort, "We'll see who's lost the war, chum!" In an instant, the two warrior rabbits were locked in combat, each trying to tare the other to pieces. Seeing his chance, also Alan pulled out his shotgun; supporting it against his shoulder with his good arm, he aimed at Woundwort's hind legs and fired; but the savage rabbit rolled out of the way in the nick of time and the bullet only struck the ground beside him.

He tried to fire again, only to discover he had used up his last bullet. So he did the only logical thing that came to mind: grabbing the weapon by the muzzle, he swung the heavy barrel end at Woundwort's turned head. But the savage rabbit, having anticipated that move, suddenly ducked low, fast as lightning, so that Bigwig was inevitably caught in the path of the blow instead; the heavy bat end of the gun impacted hard with the Captain of Owsla's head, knocking him out. At the same moment, Woundwort gave Bigwig a powerful shove, sending the unconscious veteran tumbling into the river.

Woundwort rounded on Alan, who was frozen in shock and self-hatred of what he had just done, an insane gleam of triumph in his demonic eye, "You see Time Traveller? The Threarah was right; you _are_ the foretold instrument of destruction to El-ahrairah's legacy whether you like it or not. You pledge your loyalty to these renegades, yet now you have just claimed your first victim in my favour!" he sneered, gesturing in the direction of the water, where Bigwig had disappeared. With a powerful blow, he struck Alan on his broken arm, sending the man crumpling to the ground, howling in pain.

Before he could strike another blow however, Woundwort suddenly found himself pinned to the ground by Silver. Although the Threarah's nephew didn't possess Bigwig's tree-trunk-like muscles, he still had a great deal of fat tucked beneath his furry hide, giving him the advantage of being able to pin an opponent down with his weight, even a fiercely strong brute like Woundwort. Having succeeded in temporarily gaining the upper hand, Silver started slashing and biting viciously at Woundwort's neck. The savage rabbit howled in pain as Silver ripped off a strip of torn skin from a shoulder wound, exposing the bloody flesh underneath, while Hazel and Fiver dragged Alan away.

For a moment it looked as if Silver would win, as Woundwort, nearly suffocated, continued to roar and struggle beneath the massive rabbit's bulk. But then, as if fuelled by determination for revenge, he made a violent jerk, knocking Silver off of him. The two resumed their fight, this time with Silver quickly losing, as Woundwort wrestled him to the ground. Struggling to restrain his stronger opponent, Silver turned and shouted to his friends, "Run! Never mind about me, just go! Get up top and seal up the tunnel! Hurry! I can't hold him much longer!"

Seeing that Silver was beyond help, they all turned round and run back up the passage, towards the generator room. Behind them, a loud thump, followed by a loud cry, told them Silver had been overpowered as well. They could hear the pattering of heavy paws behind them, as Woundwort abandoned Silver and gave chase after them. As they reached the other side of the chamber, they turned and saw Woundwort gaining in on them; soon he'd be upon them and they would all be doomed.

"Everyone get up the tunnel as fast as you can! I've got an idea…" Alan said, taking out a flare from his backpack and striking it on the wall. The others looked at him, "What are you going to do?"

"Try and slow that monster down," Alan replied, staring at the kerosene spilled all over the chamber floor; there were at least a hundred gallons of it, enough to set the whole mine ablaze. As he saw Woundwort appear at the far side of the chamber, he took aim and tossed the burning flare; it bounced off the chamber wall and landed onto the kerosene-drenched floor. Knowing he only had a second before the whole place would go up in flames, he turned and followed his companions up the passage and back into Buxton Hall. As they sealed the trapdoor beneath them, they got a glimpse of the inferno that had been unleashed in the caverns below; the crackling sound of flames combined with the strong odour of smoke filled the air.

They all held their breaths, wondering if Woundwort had finally been killed, when they heard something that made their hopes plummet, "That was good thinking ithe; pity that all fires must someday burn out. Enjoy life while you still can, because I am coming for you and your little friends. Your lives are mine and there is no one to save you now!" Woundwort's cold voice confirmed that their trap had failed; the evil rabbit had turned back at the last second, escaping the wrath of the flames. Alan turned to his six remaining companions, as they stared miserably at each other.

There was no other way to put it; they were trapped on this rock, with no help coming, and a maniac killer hunting them down like prey. They all turned to look at Alan, who was pale as a ghost, his lip trembling. There was no mystery as to why; it had been _his_ blow that had allowed Woundwort to overpower and kill Bigwig. And Silver too, who had given them their chance to escape, had fallen to Woundwort because Alan could do nothing to help him. Hazel put a comforting paw on his shoulder, "Alan, what happened to Bigwig wasn't your fault…" At this, Alan lost it.

"_NOT MY BLOODY FAULT_? IT WAS _MY_ DAMNED GUN THAT STRUCK HIM DOWN, ALLOWING WOUNDWORT TO FINISH HIM OFF!" he bellowed, sinking to his knees in guilt and self-hatred, just like when Robbins had killed his wife. Fiver knelt down beside his friend, "Alan, you didn't…" But Hawkbit found the perfect moment to shut his big mouth off, "But _he_ struck him d…"he started, causing the other rabbits, including Dandelion, to bellow, "SHUT UP HAWKBIT!" Holly gently spoke to Alan.

"You were injured, yet you were risking your life trying to help Bigwig fight the enemy. He would never hold a grudge against you for what happened; he and Silver both died the way any good soldier would want to go. _Woundwort_ alone has their blood on his paws." Alan slowly raised his head to look into the senior rabbit's face, who was staring at him in calm reassurance. Slowly pulling himself together somewhat, he stood up, determined to get the rest of them out of there in one piece.

"The bastard is right; the fire can't keep him at bay for much longer; the path will soon be clear when it dies down, or he might even find another way up to us sooner. I just hope it stalls him long enough for me to get a final distress signal out on McEwen's transmitter, so Josie and the others will know what's going on here."

"What's the point? _They_ can't help us now!" retorted Hawkbit sharply, his voice trembling with fear at their predicament. With them trapped on the island, would Woundwort continue hunting them down, killing them off one by one? Hawkbit shuddered at the thought of ending up the last one to die; seeing Dandelion and so many of their other companions die once had been enough to last him a lifetime.

Alan run his hands through his hair thinking, "We have to get off this island at all costs; we can't just wait holed up here, hoping for help to get to us before Woundwort does. Once I send out that SOS, we're getting the hell out of here, even if it means swimming for it ("Great, if Woundwort doesn't kill us, we go drown ourselves instead," Hawkbit groaned sarcastically). There has to be another way out of the canyon further downriver; all we have to do is swim until we find it."

Switching on the makeshift transmitter that McEwen had contrived out of all the junk they had stripped off the Cessna, Alan started broadcasting the same message on all frequencies, "Mayday, mayday, mayday! This is Alan, transmitting from Efrafa. Woundwort is still alive and after us; Hotdog is gone along with the plane. We're going to take our chances by swimming out of here. If you can hear this, follow the river downstream and you should find us." He repeated the message on every frequency, even resorting to tap it in Morse, hoping someone back on the Down would hear it.

"Can they hear us?" Hazel asked as the man continued to seemingly talk to himself, while fiddling with the improvised transmitter. Alan shook his head in frustration, "How should I know? We can't receive a reply from the other end to confirm. And it doesn't really matter anymore; the power is gone." Sure enough, the little green light on the circuit board dimmed and went out as battery died. Sighing, Alan tossed away the now useless headset, "We're finished here chaps; it's time we took our chances and got the hell out of here. We have the four lifejackets from the Cessna and we also have the one from Max Pete. Let's go!"

He led the way out of the manor towards the edge of the cliffs at the southern end of the island, carrying the parachute canvas and lifejackets in his arms. Like everywhere else on this plateau-like island, the cliffs were completely vertical, like walls, with a fifty-foot fall to the dark water below. On the eastern side of the island, the reddish glow of a blazing inferno rose from the depths of the canyon; the kerosene from the generator that had leaked into the river had ignited, setting the entire cove ablaze. Alan lit a flashlight and placed it in a rock beside them, giving them enough light to work in the darkness of night, with only the moon and stars visible.

"You think it's a good idea?" Hazel asked wearily as they found a good spot, deprived of any rocks at the bottom, from where they could jump, without fear of injury. Alan, who was staring uneasily at the dark water below, shook his head, "I doubt it; however it's our best shot. We're going to have to chance it and hope for the best. At least, the life jackets will keep us from drowning." Then he suddenly realised that they had another problem to consider; they were two lifejackets short. Alan cursed under his breath; it seemed they would soon have to draw straws once again, to decide which two unlucky ones would have to take their chances in the water without them.

Before he could decide whether or not he should point it out or simply strap the first five lucky ones in, a terrified scream was heard from Fiver, catching them off-guard. Turning, they saw Woundwort emerge from the foliage, blocking their way to the jump point. Alan felt his insides turn to ice; Woundwort had found his way up much sooner than he had expected. Now they were standing face to face with a deadly opponent and with nothing left to fight back with. Quickly picking up his heavy backpack, Alan swung it in the air and threw it at Woundwort, hitting him square in the face. Caught by surprise, the savage rabbit staggered backwards, but was still far from beaten.

There was no time to jump now, so they turned and run back to the manor for cover, with Woundwort in hot pursuit. Running as fast as they could, they mounted the weather-beaten porch steps of the manor and entered the decaying hallway. Alan picked up the copper pipe McEwen had been using as a bolt and drew it through the handles, barring the door shut. Not a second later, they heard a terrible banging noise on the other side, as Woundwort attacked the doors, trying to force his way in. Although the titanium doors were holding, the thin copper pipe was quickly starting to yield to Woundwort's powerful attacks; any moment now, it would give way and they would once again have Woundwort on their tails.

"Everybody run! Down to the sewer tunnel!" Alan shouted and they all bolted, heading for the shower room in the basement, from where they could escape back outside, pick up their lifejackets, even if it meant sharing them, and jump. As they run past the entrance to the drawing room, where the remainder of their equipment lay scattered, Alan dashed inside. Picking up the last nitro canister, he placed it in a dark corner of the hallway, out of sight. Lighting his last flare, he planted it beneath the canister like a burner heating a kettle –in this case a 'kettle' of high explosive waiting to blow - waiting to greet the unaware Woundwort as he burst in after them.

The trap set, they all turned and run, knowing they only had a minute or two at best, before the heat of the flare would penetrate the canister insulation, detonating the nitroglycerine and blowing the whole place into oblivion.

But as they made for the stairs that led down to the basement, they saw the corridor below completely engulfed in thick black smoke; the fire they had started down in the caverns had spread and was venting all its smoke into the manor, making it impossible to reach the sewer opening without danger of suffocation, "No wait, the smoke is too thick. Go back!"

They rushed back the way the had come, up to the hallway, Alan rushing frantically to remove the flare away from the canister, before it could detonate and blast them all into oblivion. Before he could get there however, the pipe keeping the front doors bolted shut, finally gave way and the doors burst open, revealing Woundwort, his insane red eye gleaming in the dark like that of a demon's as he confidently strode into the hallway growling, "Prepare to die, outsiders!"

Quickly picking up a loose brick that lay on the floor, Alan flung it in the direction of Woundwort, hitting the savage rabbit directly in the eye, his weakest spot. Woundwort howled in pain and crumpled to the ground, holding his paw against his sore eye, temporarily halted.

It was too late to disarm the bomb now, and with nowhere else to run, Alan signalled to the others to retreat to the upper floors, hoping to find another way out from upstairs. Running up the crumbling framework that was once the elegant staircase, they made their way up to the ruinous and inaccessible upper floors. Finding no escape route, they continued climbing the stairwell, until they reached the underside of the collapsed dome and made their way out through a hole where a utility shed had once been and onto the rooftop. That section of the house had disintegrated long ago, leaving only the collapsed rusted framework that once held up the tiles of the roof, now long since caved in, and some sections of the surrounding concrete balcony to walk on.

Staring around, they saw that they were trapped; there was no other way back down and Woundwort was still hot on their tails; this time they were cornered for good, with a deadly enemy only seconds away, and a live bomb about to detonate right from under their feet. For an instant, Alan's mind flashed back to Max Pete's parachute still lying somewhere downstairs. If only he had thought of grabbing that instead of the nitroglycerine canister…

_Well…_ he thought with a slight feeling of consolation, as he gently held a terrified Fiver close, as they waited for the killer rabbit to make his way up, _…at least Woundwort will die with us and will never be able to rebuild his domain of terror._ Below them, they could still hear the sound of growling and creaking as Woundwort, a loose killing machine with a thirst for revenge, relentlessly made his way up to them, his massive weight crushing the rusted framework of the stairwell as he went.

The seven friends backed away towards the far edge of the roof; behind them was a 200ft drop all the way down the side of the manor wall, to the foot of the cliffs in the depths of the canyon below. Even though there was the river running right at the bottom, making it a reasonably soft landing, attempting to jump from up here would be extremely dangerous if not deadly, without a parachute.

Suddenly, just when Alan was about to suggest that they take the chances and jump and maybe they'd get lucky, they were startled by a large shadow that moved across the moon, followed by a cheerful voice calling from right above their heads, "Hallo you chaps!" They all looked up in surprise and saw their balloon, repaired and reassembled, hovering right above them, piloted by non other than…

"_Derek_? Is that you, you bloody old dodger?" Alan cried, feeling great joy and relief, realising his childhood friend had made it after all. Derek Shaw smiled down at them, looking dirty, unshaven and his clothes in rags, yet very much alive, "Sorry I am late chaps; I had to wait for the wind to shift so I could make it back." The rabbits were all cheering with joy, realising that they had been saved by Derek's unexpected arrival. The engineer dropped a grapnel line to anchor the floating balloon to the framework of the ruined rooftop, before Alan quickly helped his companions aboard: Hazel went first, followed by Fiver, Dandelion, Hawkbit, Blackberry and finally Holly pilled in.

Alan was about to climb in himself, when suddenly he felt a sharp pair of jaws slam shut on his leg; turning round, he saw Woundwort had finally caught up with them and lunged himself at him, struggling to climb over him and into the basket, to attack the others. The six rabbits instantly grabbed hold of his clothing, trying to pull him onboard, as Derek fired up the burner, causing the balloon to start rising again. Clutching the grapnel line for dear life with his good arm, Alan felt his feet leave the ground as the balloon soared into the air, Woundwort still clinging firmly to his legs using both teeth and claws that were cutting into his trousers, the rabbit's massive weight giving him the feeling that he was about to be dismembered.

Suddenly, a loud explosion thundered from the interior of the decaying building, followed by a massive fireball that shot out of the hollow windows, engulfing Red Hand's old headquarters, as the bomb finally detonated. Then the manor started to collapse; the ancient walls disintegrated and the floors pancaked onto each other, as the old building came crumbling down to the ground in a pile of ancient rubble, just like the World Trade Centre in New York had done centuries ago. But nobody onboard the balloon took any notice of it, as they struggled desperately to pull Alan into the basket with Woundwort stubbornly keeping a firm grip on the man's legs.

"We are too heavy! We're going back down!" Derek shouted as he increased the burner outlet to compensate for the overload but to no avail. Looking beneath him, Alan saw that they were sinking straight into the depths of the canyon; below them they could see the river had become a blazing inferno from the flaming kerosene that had leaked into the water from the mine. Any second now, they would come down right in the middle of it, to a fiery death.

Using every ounce of strength he had, Alan continued to kick at Woundwort, trying to shake him off, bruising and bloodying him even more in the process; but the Efrafan dictator, either knew some mental trick to block out pain or was filled with such a strong determination to destroy his enemies, even if it meant dying in the attempt, it cancelled out any physical pain altogether. Sure enough, Woundwort's grotesque face curled into an ugly sneer, "Maybe we'll die together, but I'll welcome the Black Rabbit of Inle, knowing that you'll never live to destroy my legacy, outsiders!"

In an instant, Alan understood what had to be done; the harsh reality of Fiver's vision earlier that evening, about one of them having to pay the price for victory, suddenly became obvious: McEwen hadn't been the one who had to die, it was _him_! Resigning himself to his fate, he looked down at Woundwort, "You want another life before you can go and rot in hell for good? Then take me!" With sickening satisfaction, he saw Woundwort's eye widen in fear, as the evil brute realised what Alan meant to do,

"No, wait! Don't!"

Ignoring Woundwort's pleas, Alan turned his gaze back to Fiver, who was still clutching desperately onto his sleeve using both teeth and claws, trying to pull him up, "Farewell ma rusati. Please look after Lucy for me." Then, before the others could register what Alan meant to do, the brave marine suddenly released his grip on the grapnel line, causing it to unwind from its pulley and sending both Woundwort and himself plummeting straight into the inferno below. The balloon, relieved of its overload, instantly soared upwards again, narrowly escaping the flames that threatened to engulf it.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

They all screamed in horror, staring over the side of the basket, towards the flaming water, which had just become Alan and Woundwort's fiery, yet watery grave. Derek stood frozen in shock, pale as a ghost, while Hawkbit, Dandelion, Blackberry and Holly looked away in silent sorrow. Haze meanwhile was struggling to restrain a hysteric Fiver, who seemed about to jump over the side too. "Fiver, no! You can't help him! Alan is dead; his sacrifice saved us all. But he's gone."

Fiver slowly sunk into his brother's embrace, feeling so much sorrow, it felt as if his heart was being cut out with a sharp claw; Alan, whom he had come to love like a brother, had died just when he had won the war for them, when he would have truly become part of their lives. Fiver felt even more sorrow as he thought, how would he ever explain to Lucy? Although the final battle been won, Fiver felt anything but victorious.

Author's notes: Disappointed? Well, don't be…yet. The story isn't over after all! By the way, the Hayward Rabbits from California is a true story (check the article online). Coming up next, Josie's group arrives and rounds up the rest of the survivors and you'll learn what happened to Alan and Woundwort… Enjoy and please review!


	53. Chapter 53 Loss of A Friend or Not?

The motorboat carrying Josie, Campion and Blackavar had finally reached Efrafa. It was a depressing sight: the northern side of the island, where the warren had existed only hours ago, had been annihilated completely, reduced to nothing more than a sandbank formed by the sunken debris at the foot of the cliffs. Washed atop it were the semi-burned remains of trees that had once stood around the warren, as well as the bloodied, burned and dismembered corpses of the rabbits that had been killed in the explosion that had destroyed the warren. The remaining southern portion of the island still stood, looking completely desolate.

Struggling to get a grip on themselves at the sight of all the dead, Josie slowly manoeuvred the boat through the sea of bodies, as they searched for any signs of survivors. The three of them felt sick at the horrible sight of all the dismembered corpses floating around them in the water, their lifeless eyes staring vacantly back at them. Campion inhaled sharply as he recognised the familiar faces of former comrades, their bodies bobbing up in the water. But the greatest shock came for Josie, when her flashlight revealed the outline of a human arm clinging to a floating tree trunk.

Pulling the boat alongside, she reached out and grabbed hold, thinking it could be Alan or Hotdog, unconscious. However, as she pulled at the wrist, she felt it to be stiff, cold and strangely light for a human body; it was only a severed human arm with the rest of the body missing from the shoulder down. Her shock turned to sorrow as she recognised the Royal Air Corps crest on the torn jacket sleeve, as well as the familiar wedding ring on the middle finger; she had found all that was left of her husband's bomb-vaporized body to bury.

Struggling to hold back her tears of sorrow, her heart feeling as if she had just been stabbed with a red-hot knife, she sank to the floor of the boat, still clutching what little remained of her husband's body. As she felt his hand, something fell out the frozen fist into her palm; it was her husband's silver lighter, the one she had given to Alan to return to him for the battle. The cap was still open, from when McEwen had set the nitro canister ablaze, destroying Woundwort's army and domain, but sacrificing himself in the process. Reminding herself that she still had too much to do before she could mourn him, she hastily pulled herself together and reassumed control of the boat and they resumed their search. Suddenly, Blackavar's voice caught their attention.

"A hey seth eth!"

Looking in the direction in which the Efrafan deserter was pointing, they saw a rabbit in the water trying to swim, barely managing to keep his head above water in exhaustion. Quickly paddling in his direction, she pulled up alongside him and the two rabbits pulled him onboard. Shining her flashlight on the buck's face, they all gasped as they recognised him, "Bigwig!" But the former Efrafan captain of Owsla was too busy chocking up all the water he had swallowed to reply, struggling to catch his breath.

Although still alive, Bigwig looked horribly exhausted, indicating he had undergone a difficult ordeal. A nasty cut, which had turned a shade of blue from swelling, was visible on his temple, as if he had been struck by something, indicating a possible concussion. Wrapping a blanket round him to make him comfortable, she asked him, "What happened Bigwig? Where is Hotdog? Where are the others?" The Owsla veteran took a few minutes to get his voice back before explaining.

"That bloody Woundwort had survived the destruction. He killed Hotdog as he came back and then came after us as well. By Frith, it is almost as if that rabbit's cursed by the Black Rabbit with immortality! I tried to hold him off until Alan came up with that stupid idea to pitch in; and clobbered me over the head with his gun…" The others gasped in shock but Bigwig shook his head reassuringly, "…by _accident_, the clumsy idiot. I was knocked into the river and the next thing I remember is you chaps pulling me out of the water. I don't know what happened to the others…"

With the exception of Bigwig, there were no other survivors to be found in the water; only more dead bodies. That left only one place to look for any more survivors: the small remaining portion of the island. Carefully manoeuvring the boat out of the sea of bodies, they rejoined the current and made for the hidden cove at the foot of the cliffs. As they made for shore, Josie noticed that the cavern entrance, as well as the cliffs on that side of the island were scorched and blackened like the walls of a coalmine. The entire cove had been incinerated by the kerosene spill, with small fires still burning from bushes and brambles growing on the rocks as well as floating debris in the river. Lying on the shore was the now charred body of Max Pete, burned charcoal black from the inferno.

Securing the boat on the shore and leaving Bigwig, who had passed out from exhaustion, behind to guard it, they ventured up the tunnel. Although the entire place had been incinerated by the fire, the route was still accessible. They entered the generator room, now scorched from top to bottom and semi-collapsed. Josie gasped as she spotted Sven's scorched skeleton on the floor.

"Alan…" she whispered, thinking they had found Alan's remains. But Campion reassured her, "It's all right; this one has been here a long time. Alan said it was that traitor from your time who chose to side with Hemlock, but was eventually betrayed and killed." Josie felt the blood flow back into her face in relief; she should have guessed they'd stumble across Shertok's remains here even after all these centuries, just as Alan had said.

As they made their way up the passage to where the trapdoor once was, they found the end of the tunnel completely blocked by a rock fall that had come down through the ceiling when the manor had collapsed above it. Josie sighed in exasperation, "Looks like we shall have to find another way to reach them." They turned round and returned to the cove. But as they were about to push off, to circle the island for another way up, they noticed Blackavar had suddenly gone rigid, "Stirath laynt zayn hlaf thli!"

Looking down, they saw he had found a pair of large rabbit pawprints in the mud, very recent too, judging by the sharpness of the outline. The trail led up a steep slope on the side of the cliff, probably all the way up to the top. In an instant Josie understood what had happened, "They must have retreated back up the tunnel and set that generator on fire, forcing him to retreat back here to escape the flames; then he made his way up from that ledge. So there must be another route up somewhere. Let's go!"

They climbed up to the ledge, following it along the side of the cliffs; the path was dangerously narrow, with only about thirty inches of space between the wall and the edge to walk on. It didn't look too promising to Josie and it soon came to a dead end: the spot from where Woundwort had jumped to attack the floatplane. Disappointed, she was about to signal to her companions to turn back, when she noticed Blackavar sniffing something behind some brambles growing on the cliffs beside them. Bending for a closer look, she saw a narrow, circular tunnel in the cliff wall. But it wasn't made by nature; it was smooth and solid, lined with concrete. "An old sewer tunnel from our time," she said, "it probably used to run in this area but surfaced when the canyon was formed long ago, splitting it apart. And perhaps this tunnel…"

"…might be another way up," Campion finished for her, "As a matter of fact, I remember seeing this tunnel earlier as we made our way into Efrafa. It must be adjacent…" Sure enough, turning back to Blackavar, they saw the mutilated buck was still picking up Woundwort's scent, confirming that there had to be another way up through that hole. Getting down on their knees, they crawled through the tunnel in total darkness.

Being rather claustrophobic, Josie felt very uneasy as she crawled forward, carrying her flashlight in her mouth to light the way. Struggling not to panic, she begun to worry what would they find at the end of this tunnel. Perhaps it was nothing but another dead end? If so, then would they be able to turn round in this narrow pipe? And even if it did lead out somewhere, maybe it was already too late? Her painful thoughts were interrupted when she spotted a turn in the passage up ahead; the tunnel they were in was adjacent to the sewer tunnel that Alan and his companions had used to sneak out of the manor and into Efrafa. To their left, in the direction of the manor, they could see the tunnel had caved in from the destruction; but the exit on their right still stood. Crawling out through the hole, they finally found themselves on the top of the plateau-like island.

The island looked as barren and desolate as ever, with signs of destruction everywhere. In a clearing up ahead was a massive pile of smoking rubble, which were the remains of Buxton Hall; the explosion had blown the entire structure to pieces. The shattered fragments of the walls and upper floors were scattered everywhere, having mowed down many nearby trees in the process, with only the porch and some portions of the down floor still standing. The rest of Red Hand's former headquarters had suffered the same fate as Efrafa. However, there was no sign of what they had come here looking for.

On the edge of the cliffs, they found the pile of lifejackets Alan's group had been preparing. Nearby, Campion also found Alan's backpack with Woundwort's scent smearing the rough fabric. Yet aside from some scattered tracks indicating a recent struggle, there was no sign of him or his companions, not even their bodies. Staring at the trail, she realised to her horror that it led straight in the direction of the ruins. _My God_, Josie thought in a panic, _Perhaps they were they caught in that explosion and are now buried underneath all that rubble?_ Suddenly, they heard Blackavar calling from some nearby bushes.

"Hli! A hay seth eth!"

They rushed over to him and found he had discovered an injured, semi-conscious rabbit with silvery white fur lying on the ground. It was Silver, looking battered and weak from the fight with Woundwort, yet still alive, slowly raised his bloodstained face and smiled back at them in acknowledgement. Hastily taking out the first aid box from Alan's backpack, Josie got to work tending to Silver's wounds.

Aside from a few ugly scratches and bites, there was a nasty lump on his head from one of Woundwort's blows, which had caused him a mild concussion that kept him disorientated and semi-conscious. After cleaning up his wounds and helping him sip down some water, Silver felt enough strength return to explain what had happened. He told them how they had been ambushed and attacked by Woundwort, Bigwig making a last stand against Woundwort and finally he himself 'falling' to the enemy as well.

"I think I was knocked out," Silver explained, "Woundwort must have left me for dead and followed the others up the tunnel. When I came to, Woundwort was gone. Then, I suddenly saw this terrible ball of fire erupt from the caverns; I barely managed to escape the flames by climbing up onto that ledge above the cove and found that tunnel leading back up here. I saw Woundwort chasing after Alan and the others but I was too weak to get their attention. They run into the man-burrow and Woundwort followed them. Then suddenly, I saw that…flying, bubble-like hrududu we had used to storm Efrafa before, reappear and take them away. I think I saw someone fall…" Josie felt her blood run cold at this. "Then suddenly, the man-burrow collapsed and a flying stone hit me on the head, knocking me out again. That's the last I remember."

At that moment, Blackavar, who had gone scouting the island for any more survivors with Campion, returned, shaking their heads grimly; aside from Silver and Bigwig, there were no other survivors to be found.

"I guess we're finished here," Campion concluded, "We better get back; these two need rest." With Blackavar's help, they helped Silver stand and were about to depart, when suddenly, Josie, who had unpacked Alan's binoculars and was scanning the canyon for any signs of life, gave a shout, "There is someone moving down there!" Sure enough, as she zoomed in, she could make out the outline of a man against the light of her torch, standing upright in the water and waving a red cloth at them, apparently trying to attract attention. But they were too far away to make out who they were.

"It looks like we have another survivor after all," Josie said, turning to the others, "Let's go!" They made their way back down to the cove and took the boat further downstream, towards the other survivor. Suddenly, they saw him up ahead: it was Hotdog, standing on the overturned pontoons of the plane. It seemed that when the capsized aircraft had drifted downstream, it had run aground on a sandbar in the middle of the river, preventing him from being swallowed up, but stranding him in the process. Hotdog held a red handkerchief in his hand, which he had been using it as a signal flag. Josie tossed him the end of a rope and he secured it to the pontoon they were standing on.

"About time! I thought I would be stuck forever on this floating banana!" the former smuggler said, not lacking his usual sense of humour. Josie pulled the boat alongside and Hotdog jumped in. Although luckily uninjured, Hotdog looked a right mess, with his long greasy hair all over the place and his clothes inside out. But otherwise he looked unharmed, if not a bit pissed off for the loss of his plane.

"As I approached the island, I saw that deranged rabbit - General King-Kong-Cyclops or whatever you guys call that bloody oaf - standing on a ledge. Suddenly, as I pulled alongside, the crazy son-of-a-bitch jumped on me and capsized my bloody plane! My seatbelt had jammed so I found myself strapped upside-down underwater. I barely managed to get free and take a breath from the air pocket trapped on the floor of the cabin, which had become the roof. Then the lights shorted out, so I couldn't find my way out. Suddenly, I felt the aircraft bump into something and I realised I had run aground. I finally managed to find the door, swim out and climb onto the pontoons."

"The you don't know what became of Alan and the others?" Josie asked, losing hope of finding any more survivors. Hotdog shook his head, "I saw Buxton Hall explode; I think someone must have disturbed the nitroglycerine. But the smoke was too thick to let me see anything clearly from down here. Then I heard someone scream…"

"Silver says someone returned with the balloon and carried them off before the Hall was destroyed," Josie said, "And he also says he saw someone fall as they flew away…" he finished grimly. Could it have been _Alan_? Suddenly, their thoughts were interrupted as they heard voices calling them from the cliffs above them, "Ahoy down there!"

Looking up, Josie saw Alan's closest friend Derek Shaw and six of the rabbits from Alan's group, who had landed the balloon and hurried back to look for Alan. There was no shore to beach the boat, so they manoeuvred the boat to the foot of the cliffs, where Hotdog secured it with a line around a jabbed rock. Looking up, they saw Derek lower a rope fashioned out of one of the balloon cables for them to climb up.

Soon Josie, Hotdog, Bigwig, Silver, Campion and Blackavar had joined Derek, Hazel, Fiver, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Holly and Blackberry. Josie stared at Alan's old friend who had put on quite some weight and grown a beard over the years, and currently hardly a sight for sore eyes: dishevelled, dirty, and his clothes in shreds, yet unhurt. The engineer stared back at Josie and Hotdog shell-shocked as he recognised two people he believed to be long dead, standing right before him _here_ in this future world where he was stranded, "Hotdoggie? Josie Clayton? How…Where…What the hell are _you_ guys doing here?" he gasped in surprise, as Hotdog rushed forward to embrace his old best friend in delight, "Hallo to you too Dekie, mate!"

"We're here on Alan's invitation," Josie explained to Derek, causing him to look even more confused, "On his _invitation_? What are you…? For days now, we have been stranded in this future world, completely forgotten by the rest of the world for the past seven centuries! How did you know where to…?" But Josie cut him off, "It's a long story and we haven't got time to discuss it now. How many of you made it out?"

"I picked up seven survivors, including Alan," Derek explained, "We were suddenly attacked by that bloody bastard Woundwort - I suppose you already know about this scumbag who is trying to enslave this future world like Hitler?" Josie nodded, as they all listened carefully, "He and Alan were holding onto the side of the basket; the balloon was overloaded and we were sinking towards the inferno. Alan…" he paused at that moment, struggling to hold back tears of sorrow, "…he gave his life to save ours and destroy Woundwort." They all lowered their heads in silent sorrow, as Derek confirmed that Alan was indeed gone from this world.

"But we still haven't found his body," Bigwig interrupted roughly, refusing to give up hope, "And nobody actually _saw_ him die. We all know he's a good swimmer and has made it through tougher scrapes than this, so there's a good chance he may have made it out somewhere downstream ("Not likely," Hawkbit said and was cuffed by Bigwig to shut him up). I will continue the search and I need four volunteers to come with me, including one of you three," he said, gesturing at the three humans, "…to control this hrududu that travels on water."

Fuelled with a tiny ray of hope at Bigwig's strong determination, they all volunteered to come help in the search, but it was impossible, given that the boat couldn't take all twelve of them and they needed some margin for Alan and any other survivors they might find. Finally, Bigwig made the decision and enrolled Derek, Holly, Blackavar and Fiver in the search party and ordered the others to return to the Down. Hazel wanted to protest, but from his brother's pleading look and remembering how the seer buck's visions could be an enormous help in the search, he finally agreed to let him tag along.

One by one, Derek lowered the three rabbits down to the boat using the rope, before climbing down himself and taking Josie's place. Hazel, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Silver, Campion, Blackberry, Josie and Hotdog watched the boat disappear downstream, before begging their long trek back upstream towards Watership Down, to deliver the news to the rest of their friends.

Meanwhile, the group of five continued on downstream, searching for more survivors. The river further down was pretty narrow and twisted in many directions. They found many scorched tree trunks that had drifted downstream by the current, as well as several other bodies of Efrafans, but no sign of Alan or Woundwort. Then, just as Derek was about to turn the boat around, they finally heard it: a desperate, frightened voice interrupted every few seconds by the sound of chocking fits, "Help me! Somebody, help me!"

Following the voice, they came to a pile of debris washed up on a sandbank, and saw it; but it wasn't Alan and it wasn't Woundwort either. Lying entangled in a bunch of pilled-up branches at the water's edge was Vervain, looking utterly terrified. Completely trapped, the Efrafan Head of Owslafa was struggling to keep his head above water, as the current continued brushing against him, slowly drowning him in his entanglement. The evil rabbit, that always took great pleasure in watching others suffer, was muttering to himself, "My life has been reduced to nothing! I betrayed General Woundwort, I betray everyone… Let the Black Rabbit take me!" His eyes opened wide as saucers as he saw the boat approaching, his enemies looking down at him.

"And what makes you think He'll want you Vervain?" asked Holly coldly, as Derek stopped the boat inches from him, so they could get a good look. They stared at Vervain with expressions of hate, making no move whatsoever to help him. Only Fiver, who was staring at the sadist rabbit with pity, finally spoke up, "Hang on Vervain, we'll get you out." He made an attempt to reach out to him, but Holly held him back, "Let's not be too hasty Fiver; you saw what happened last time we made the mistake and let this scumbag go free. Like we agreed, he isn't getting any more chances."

"But we can't just leave him like this! Bigwig? Blackavar?" the small buck pleaded with each of his companions in turn, but they all remained firm. Blackavar glared at Fiver, _"He abused me and tortured me all my life; it's because of him and his master that I am reduced to this ghastly appearance now,"_ he growled in Lapine, indicating his shredded ears, _"Hyzenthlay and the other does have also suffered beyond forgiveness!"_

"I say we leave him right where he is; he is getting what he deserves," Holly snapped, glaring at Vervain. Although they could see Vervain was looking even more frightened by these words, he managed to retort, "I won't beg for my life from the likes of you. Go, leave me in peace ("With pleasure," snarled Bigwig)." They were about to turn around and leave Vervain to his fate, when Derek decided to intervene, "As much as I hate to say this chaps, if we leave him like this, we'll be lowering ourselves down to his level. Even Alan wouldn't have wanted that, despite everything this scumbag has done to us."

"Hazel would never turn his back on a rabbit in trouble, not even the likes of Vervain," Fiver said sternly, looking disgusted at his companions. Bigwig groaned in a very Hawkbit-like way; on one hand he wanted nothing better than to watch Vervain die to avenge his dead comrades, but on the other hand, he knew Hazel would be very angry if he abandoned a helpless rabbit to die. Yet, the thought of letting Vervain live seemed careless and dangerous, "Have you gone out of your mind? This miserable hraka sold us out in search of a little glory! Should we ask Bluebell what he thinks, if we should _help_ him?"

"I agree, he is too dangerous alive," Holly said, "If we leave him here and he somehow survives, he'll be a lethal thorn in our side, just like Campion warned us. So let's compromise; we'll take him back with us…" Bigwig and the others looked at him in surprise; helping Vervain was one thing, but bringing him back to Watership Down was another matter, "…as a _prisoner_," Holly finished. Finally Bigwig agreed and they helped Vervain out of his entanglement. They pulled him into the boat, where he collapsed to the floor in exhaustion.

"I say, look at this," Derek said, as he fished out something that had been tangled on Vervain's hind legs, anchoring him underwater: a piece of yellow rubber fabric with a paddle attached to it; they had found the remains of the dingy that he and Robbins had used to escape, the bullet hole from Hotdog's gun visible in the side. But there was no sign of Robbins anywhere, making them realise the evil man had finally gotten his comeuppance. With Alan still missing, they resumed their search.

Further down, they came to a blockade; the drifting debris from Efrafa had formed a dam, blocking the river and preventing them from venturing any further downstream. Fiver suddenly called out, "Over there! I see something!" The spotlight of the boat revealed a semi-burnt bramble bush washed against the dam of debris, with something shinny tangled onto it, something artificial, made of glass… They all gasped as Derek picked up Alan's horn-rimmed glasses; part of the frame was bent and one of the lenses had a scorch mark on it from the fire. But there was no sign of their owner anywhere. Staring beyond the dam, they saw the river basin had been nearly drained by the dam, which was barely holding against the building water pressure on their side. They had to turn back soon, before the dam collapsed, or they could all be swallowed up by a furious torrent of water.

"We won't find anything else. He couldn't have drifted past this point and still be alive," Derek said, "We should turn around, before _we_ need a search and rescue to come after us," he said, staring at the slowly collapsing dam. Although they didn't want to give up, they agreed that was nothing more to be found, so Derek powered up the boat's engine and the group of depressed companions made their way back upstream. On the way, they kept glancing up on the cliffs and the pebbled shores on either side for any signs of life. But there was nothing; aside from the other bodies that had been accounted for, Alan, Woundwort, and Robbins remained missing without a trace. Finally, the group gave up the search and made their way home with heavy hearts.

They returned to the Down and found everything had gone without incident; Hazel's group had also returned safely, but without having found any trace of Alan either. Bluebell, although luckily had fared well in Josie's absence, still showed no change. By that time, most of the other Efrafan refugees had fallen asleep in the overcrowded Honeycomb, but the Watershipers remained wide awake, anxiously waiting for news. Word had already spread about Alan, but luckily, Lucy had so far being kept out of the loop about her father (Her Uncle Derek, whom she had been ecstatic to see again, had reassured her that her dad was still out searching for survivors and would be back tomorrow). On Derek's insistence, they had agreed to keep her in the dark until they brought in all the bodies of the dead for burial, in the unlikely event that Alan somehow turned up alive by then.

After Josie had finished tending to the last of the injuries and Derek and washed, shaved, and changed his shredded clothes, the three humans along with Hazel, Bigwig and Campion assembled outside for a meeting, "We have won; Woundwort has finally been defeated and his army has been destroyed. But we have suffered losses: Acorn, Speedwell, Buckthorn, McEwen, Alan, and all those Efrafans that died in battle," Hazel said. They all had heavy hearts at the news; although most of the fatalities had been from Woundwort's side, the loss of their friends would leave its scars in their memories forever.

"So what happens now Hazel?" Josie asked, trying to hold back her tears at the thought of her husband and Alan, but doing her best to maintain a straight face, "Or maybe I am supposed to call you Hazel-rah now, since you're the Chief round here?" Hazel smiled.

"No need for formalities; when we're talking privately or amongst our friends, you can all still call me Hazel. Anyway, as I was saying, now that the war is over, we have to move on; we have to rebuild our warren and the Efrafans will also need to be cared for until they can find a place to build a new warren, free of Woundwort's tyranny."

"Then we must make arrangements for our guests as soon as possible," Bigwig said, "The warren is overcrowded and tensions among those Efrafans are dangerously high already; they aren't too accepting of our way of life or of the presence of humans among us. Pipkin has already being telling me about a few incidents of bullying and harassment occurring in our absence; I personally had to strike several of those Owslafa oafs a little while ago, when some tried to harass Lucy, and another, who was harassing the does."

"My people have had a lifetime of being told what to do; it's all they know and it will take some time for them to adjust to life without Woundwort's shadow lingering over them," Campion said sadly, yet directed an angry stare towards Bigwig for striking some of his comrades, "I ask for some indulgence and understanding, and I will do my best to keep everyone in line until we can establish a new home. And, to be on the safe side, I would recommend that they be allowed to keep their distances from the humans, especially the child…at least for now, until they adjust to their presence. Woundwort had branded the human race as being a curse upon our world, and his influence runs pretty deep in their minds to be undone overnight."

"You'll have all the indulgence we can offer you," Hazel replied reassuringly to the former Efrafan Captain of Owsla, "We may have to keep some of our own bucks in line too while we're at it," he added remembering how Hawkbit and Dandelion had already lost control of their hormones and were flirting with some of the Efrafan does, resulting in a few angry cuffs from the does as well as a fight of rival jealousy between them. "We shall have to make major changes to the warren too; we already have our first litter of kittens and Hyzenthlay and her friends have decided to settle down here with us. Maybe some more of the Efrafans might wish to remain…"

"Hold your horses for a moment," Hotdog interrupted, "That's all very well, but what about _us_? Where do we go, if your guests don't want us here?" Hazel patiently turned to Josie and Derek.

"I made Alan a promise, that I would accept you all among our people, so you may have a chance to start anew. Alan has proven his loyalty and kindness to us and I have full confidence, you're just like him at heart. Therefore I will keep my pledge and let you stay; you'll have our full support and friendship forever, with or without Alan. Although I can't foresee the future, I believe you won't betray our trust; Alan promised that we would always live together in peace." The three humans nodded in agreement.

"And what about Lucy?" Josie asked, "Since…if Alan is gone, who will raise her? I know that she'll always have us all, but when we have to explain to her that her father is no more, who will be her guardian?"

"I will," replied Derek firmly, "I am Alan's closest friend and he had made me her godfather; he told me that if anything should ever happen to him and Mary, I would raise her as my own. I intent to keep my best friend's wishes," he said, fighting back tears, as he reminded himself that Alan was dead.

Later that night, Fiver lay alone in his burrow, thinking about Alan. He still couldn't believe that the man was dead; the memory of his human friend throwing himself from the balloon with Woundwort holding on to him, to that horrible death, kept playing itself in his mind, over and over again. Even on the brink of death, Alan had been fearless; he had valued the lives of his friends much more than his own. But why should _he_ become the martyr? Although Fiver knew that if Alan hadn't chosen to sacrifice himself, they would all have all joined him in death back there, it still felt so unfair that Alan's life should be the key to their so-called victory.

He thought of Vervain, currently imprisoned and under guard, that cowardly little scumbag that had sold them out to his master and dragged them into this war in the first place. Why should Frith allow that waste of a rabbit that had started all this trouble survive, while innocents had to pay the price?

With another twinge of guilt, Fiver remembered his vision, when he had realised that the war could only be won if one of them offered himself up to the Black Rabbit as a sacrifice. And, just like every other vision he had ever had before, it had happened just so: Fate had traded Alan's life for theirs. Then again…

Suddenly, Fiver realised that something didn't make sense: his vision had foretold that unless one of them surrendered to death, Woundwort's dark rule would live on and eventually enslave the world. But, thinking back now, he realised Woundwort would have died anyway, even if Alan hadn't sacrificed himself; the balloon had been overloaded, forcing Alan to throw himself and Woundwort to their deaths, to save the rest of them. So how could his vision have been correct, if Alan's sacrifice had been meant for their _welfare _and not for Woundwort's defeat? Perhaps that meant…?

Remembering how his visions of the future had always been correct down to the last detail - one of the many things that Alan had helped him understand - and fuelled with new hope, Fiver got up and made his way to another burrow, to consult with the only rabbit that could help him out: Silverweed. Although Cowslip's mystic didn't have premonitions of the future like Fiver did, he had this rare gift of being able to read minds through direct eye contact. Perhaps he could help him make sense of this riddle and hopefully, help him determine Alan's fate for certain?

Peering in, he saw the mystic trying to reassure a distraught Pipkin, who was silently sobbing for the loss of Alan; aside from Fiver, the dwarf rabbit had grown very close to the man, having found a fatherly support in him, a support that had only been short-lived, when the Black Rabbit had taken Alan away from them…away from _him_. Fiver considered for a moment; although Pipkin was trustworthy, he still didn't want to risk sharing his suspicions with anyone else just yet. Taking a deep breath, he entered the burrow. Pipkin turned to look at him in surprise.

"Hlao, will you please go and keep Lucy company for me? There is something I want to discuss with Silverweed…privately," he asked, praying to Frith that Pipkin wouldn't start asking questions. To his utmost great relief, Pipkin obeyed and just as he scurried out, he turned to look at Fiver, "Do I tell her…what happened?" Fiver shook his head firmly, "No, you heard Hazel's orders; nobody breaths a word until we know for certain."

As soon as Pipkin was out of earshot, Fiver sat and explained to Silverweed about the mystery surrounding his latest vision. The powerful mystic remained silent during Fiver's explanation, as if piecing the information together in his faraway mind.

"So, you believe your friend Alan may still be alive, because his noble sacrifice doesn't match your vision?" the mystic rabbit concluded once Fiver had finished explaining, "And you want me to help you unravel the truth by entering your mind?" Fiver nodded hopefully but Silverweed shook his head, "My dear Hrair-roo, my power doesn't work that way; _you_ can see the future when Frith allows, but I can only see what you've already seen by reading minds. Unless He grants you another vision to point the path of your friend's fate, my power would be of little help…"

At that moment, almost as if Frith himself had been listening from the shadows, the seer rabbit suddenly felt his sixth sense spring to life with another vision. After a few seconds it was over; but for the first time, Fiver wasn't filled with fear of some upcoming disaster. Instead, the runt rabbit felt hope, as he realised what he had just seen.

"Alan _is_ still alive; but he'll be lost forever if we don't find him soon." At this, he turned and rushed towards the entrance to the Honeycomb, Silverweed in tow. It was still dark outside, with dawn at least several hours away, which meant elil could be lurking about on their night hunts. The two mystics stared at each other; should they alert someone from the Owsla to escort them? Quickly deciding against it, they quietly left the warren and headed off into the night.

Author's notes: Coming up next is one of the most important chapters of this story. For any WD fan fiction fans, I suggest you refresh your knowledge of the _Cross Bearer_ by Rogue FanKC before reading the next chapter (I will be borrowing certain parts of that remarkable story to fit into mine). Enjoy and please review!


	54. Chapter 54 The Magic of Silverweed

_"Farewell ma rusati. Please look after Lucy for me." Then, before the others could register what Alan meant to do, the brave marine suddenly released his grip on the grapnel line, causing it to unwind from its pulley and sending both Woundwort and himself plummeting straight into the inferno below._

He felt Fiver's tiny claws slip from his sleeve, tearing his shirt in the process, and then Alan felt himself fall, Woundwort still clinging to his legs. He shut his eyes and covered his face with his arms, bracing himself for the agony of the flames awaiting him below. He felt the hot smoky air brush against him at high speed, the screams of Woundwort and his friends alike ringing in his ears, before he hit the flaming water. White-hot pain struck every inch of his body, as the sizzling kerosene engulfed him, before his screams were muffled by the water.

He opened his eyes and saw he was submerged underwater, with the inferno floating on the surface right above his head. Using his legs and good arm (the broken one was pinned to his chest with the sling), he struggled to swim clear of the inferno and surface around it. But the current was too strong and he instantly found himself carried along downstream, drowning. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Woundwort, also struggling with the grapnel line tangled around him, as the river swallowed them both up. Suddenly, he saw the outline of a rock loom into view ahead of him; there wasn't a second for him even to brace himself, before the water slammed him full force against the solid obstacle; his head felt a sharp blow and the last thing he saw before everything dissolved around him, was a cloud of his own blood escaping from an open head wound.

A curious sensation spread through his body. He felt almost as if he no longer had any physical body at all; no more pain, no need to breathe, no nothing… He had suddenly become something of a phantom floating through an endless whiteness of bright light that had engulfed him. The most wonderful feeling of freedom and peace overcame him and he neither knew nor cared any more about where he was or what was happening to him…

Fiver and Silverweed, nervous and scared, made their way through the dark of night, following the river downstream, passed the smoking ruins of Efrafa, as Fiver had seen in his latest vision. The continued on further down, finding no sign of life, until they finally came back to the dam formed by the drifting debris.

As Derek had anticipated, the dam was about to give way; the water pressure building on the upper side had reached a critical level by now and would soon cause it to implode. But it wasn't that which caught Fiver's attention; as he stared on the forward side of the dam, where the riverbed had been drained, he saw something lying amidst the mossy stones of the drained riverbed, something Derek's search had missed by their sheer lack of belief in ever finding Alan. It was a figure dressed in a khaki uniform and wearing an aircraft lifejacket, its yellow colour completely distinguishable from everything else around it.

Breaking into a run, Fiver, slipping and stumbling, made his way down the steep slope into the drained riverbed. Ignoring the creaking sound of the logs and the other debris forming the dam, which was threatening to give way at any moment, he made his way towards the unmoving figure, Silverweed in tow. Sure enough, just like he had glimpsed in his latest vision, lying in the mud before them, looking horribly battered, bruised, bleeding, burned and unconscious, was Alan.

Fiver drew in his breath as he stared at his friend's broken body. The man's clothes were all shredded, scorched and covered in burn holes; underneath, the two rabbits could see multiple ghastly injuries, his skin cold and milk white. A small trickle of blood formed a trail away from the body. It seemed that after he had fallen from the balloon, he had drifted downstream until the dam had formed behind him, causing the waterline to drop, exposing his body for them to find. But if he had been submerged all that time, then that meant he had to be…

"Alan, please wake up. Alan, it's me, Fiver! Please, answer me!" the young buck pleaded, nuzzling Alan in the neck. But the man's head rolled helplessly from side to side, without displaying the faintest sign of life. As the face rolled in Fiver's direction, the buck cringed in horror; Alan's face and hair were soaked in blood coming from a gaping wound just above his forehead, from where he had hit the rock. The man's eyes were still open, but staring vacantly at nothing. Fiver's heart sank; this could only mean…

"Alan, please don't be dead," the runt rabbit sobbed, nudging his human friend. Suddenly, as his ear fell across Alan's face in sadness, Fiver felt something that made his heart jump: a weak, shallow, but definitely real breath coming from Alan's mouth. He wasn't dead! Sure enough, as Fiver continued to listen, he could also hear the faint rhythm of Alan's heart still pounding inside his chest. Then again, why was he unresponsive like a corpse? In an instant, Fiver's mind flashed back to Samir; Hazel and Bigwig had told him how the brute had been rendered to a permanent catatonic state, after being struck on the head. Staring back at the wound on Alan's head, Fiver felt his insides turn cold in realisation. Alan wasn't dead; instead, he was doomed to a fate even worse than death with his mind, memory and sense of self destroyed forever.

Heartbroken, Fiver lay down beside Alan's unresponsive body, feeling completely lost. What should he do now? Alan was beyond help; should they just leave him and go? But Silverweed, who had been standing close by, watching everything with a thoughtful expression, gently nudged Fiver on the shoulder, "What did you see?" Fiver took a second to wipe some tears away before answering, "What do you mean?"

"What did you see in your vision?" repeated Silverweed in a tone of voice of someone working patiently to solve a puzzle. Fiver felt exasperated; half of him wanted to yell at Silverweed for being so carefree when his friend lay in a vegetable state before him, while the other half knew the mystic was only trying to help. Taking a few deep breaths, he managed to clear his head and replay the vision in his mind.

"I…I was flying over the canyon really fast, following, what appeared to be, Alan's ghost who was riding on the back on the Black Rabbit of Inle. He was calling to me as I followed them down here, where his body lay and then they just vanished, before a mighty wall of water appeared and swept us both away." Silverweed shook his head, "That's not good enough; here, let me take a look. Look at me straight in the eyes."

Fiver felt Silverweed's far sight penetrate his mind; he felt as if he was falling through an endless void, random memories flashing before his eyes. Then the vision resurfaced: _he was following a phantom-like black rabbit with gleaming red eyes, as it glided, rather than run, along. Ridding atop it was a ghostly outline of Alan, who was reaching out behind him as if begging Fiver to grab hold and pull him back. Alan's voice, distant and ghostly-like could be heard in the breeze of night, "Fiver…help me…" They continued running down the canyon until they came to the dam. The phantom stopped beside Alan's comatose body, before soaring upwards into the moon. Fiver found himself standing alone and bewildered beside the body, when suddenly the dam imploded; an enormous swell of blood, rather than water, burst through, coming straight at him. The torrent of blood morphed into the shape of a monstrous rabbit's head, before it opened its void of a mouth wide and swooped down on him…_

Then the vision ended. Fiver fell to the ground, panting and moaning from having relived the horrible vision a second time. Silverweed, also shaken by what he had seen, yet now grasping the meaning, helped Fiver up, "Your vision seems to imply that _you_ are the one that can bring him back Fiver." Fiver felt perplexed and scared, "How in Frith's name am I suppose to do that? No rabbit that has stopped running has ever returned from the Land Beyond Life. And Alan said no human has either…"

"And he was right; once your soul has crossed over and completely parted company with your physical body, you've stopped running forever. However," Silverweed explained patiently, "Alan's physical body isn't _completely_ dead…yet. As long as the physical body survives, even in this state, there is a link with his soul. Your task is to tap into this link and journey to the Land Beyond Life, to bring Alan's soul back to his body before it dies completely."

Fiver had never felt so afraid in his life; this task was something even El-ahrairah himself would yield to. "So that means I must surrender myself to the Black Rabbit of Inle? My life for Alan's?" Although willing to die if necessary, the thought of losing Hazel, his beloved Vilthuril, and his friends was nothing short of torture. But Silverweed shook his head reassuringly, "No, you won't be _trading_ your life for Alan's; your friend still has a _partial_ link to the world of the living through his live body but can't wake since his mind is broken; your task is to restore the full link, to bring _both_ of you back."

Suddenly, a horrible creaking noise caught them off guard; the dam was beginning to disintegrate. Soon, the deadly swell of water would burst through, drowning Alan's comatose body and destroying the last link that kept him anchored to life. Silverweed turned to Fiver, "There isn't much time; if we're going to do this, then we have to get started at once." But Fiver didn't fail to notice a grim expression on the mystic's face, which spelled out that the task wouldn't be so simple after all. As if reading his mind, Silverweed explained.

"I am afraid there will be a price to pay; when I use my powers to send your soul into the land beyond life via Alan's mind, I will be exposing my own soul and mind to limbo; the realm between life and death. Whether or not I'll be able to evade it, I can't foresee; I just hope I can hold on long enough for you to make it back." Fiver felt deep sympathy as he realised Silverweed meant to sacrifice himself.

"Why risk your life for a complete stranger? I know you realise how much Alan means to me and my friends, but why are you so willing to do this for him?" His face bearing an expression of deep shame, Silverweed explained, "Because I have used my powers to do some awful things in life, such as serving that evil rabbit Cowslip, in exchange for my own selfish safety and happiness. I would really want to confess everything I have done to you Fiver, to relieve my guilt, but there isn't time. What matters is, that this may be my only chance to ever redeem myself; whether I die or not, at least I'll know that I have repented and can hope to find some peace when Frith judges me on the day I stop running." Fiver nodded in silent understanding, as the two seers turned back to their task.

"Lie down beside Alan," Silverweed instructed and Fiver obeyed, resting his head against Alan's shoulder, "Now look into my eyes, without blinking and just let your mind go blank." Then Silverweed placed his forepaws atop Fiver and Alan's hearts, locking his supernatural eyes with theirs. But before he could perform the magic, Fiver stopped him.

"If I don't make it back but you do, go back to the warren and tell Hazel I did this on my own free will; I owe Alan more than one life dept and I intend to repay them now." Silverweed nodded and resumed the magic. Fiver heard him utter some strange and highly disturbing Lapine poetry under his breath (_'Frith Lies in the Evening Sky'_), before the mystic's eyes started glowing with a bright supernatural light. He felt a slight pull in his naval, before he was 'sucked' into those penetrating eyes and a heavenly bright light engulfed him as his soul was beamed into Alan's broken mind, reaching out to wherever its owner had gone…

Alan felt completely relaxed and comfortable; it was as if waking up from a very long sleep. He could feel a comfortable surface beneath him, like lying on a bed. As he tried to open his eyes, his corneas met a bright golden light all around him. Instinctively, he threw his hands in front of his eyes to shield them, moving his supposedly broken arm in the process. But to his amazement there was no pain, not on his arm, nor anywhere else on his body. Feeling himself, he realised all the wounds he had suffered during the battle were gone, completely healed. Even his clothes, which had been shredded and drenched in dirt and blood, were now intact and spotless clean, almost brand new.

As his eyes slowly adjusted to his new surroundings, he became aware of more changes: aside from his clothes and shoes, the rest of his belongings had all disappeared; all his weapons, the lifejacket he had been wearing, his watch, anything he had in his pockets, a couple of tooth fillings and even his glasses were gone. His eyes, which had always been dependant on glasses (Alan was short-sighted), were functioning at full capacity and the holes for his fillings were replaced with healthy teeth. A couple of old tattoos had vanished and even the Teflon disk in his left elbow (a souvenir from an old war wound) felt as if it had disappeared apparently no longer needed due to this inexplicable health boom that had overcome him. Soon, he realised he was somewhere unfamiliar.

He was lying on a comfortable bed of ivy and dock leaves, similar to those used by his rabbit friends. Studying his new surroundings, he realised he was underground, in some sort of large burrow. The grotto was large, held up by neatly positioned roots with many shoots of different coloured flowers projecting from them. Tiny chunks of sparkling quartz lay embedded in the soil behind them, sparkling like diamonds. The place felt cosy and well ventilated and, although it was definitely underground, it was filled with golden sunlight that seemed to radiate from the chamber itself, with no apparent light source visible. The floor was covered in fresh, sweet-smelling moss and peat carpeting, giving the place a most hospitable appearance.

Although amazed by the stunning beauty of this strange place, Alan was beginning to worry, having no idea where he was or how he got there in the first place. However he felt sure he knew this place from somewhere before, perhaps_ read_ about it long ago…

Sitting up, he made for a small spring in the centre of the chamber to squash his thirst, having suddenly realised just how thirsty he was. He was about to make for the exit run, hoping to find somebody, when a firm yet kind voice caught him by surprise, "Welcome to the Land Beyond Life, Time Traveller." Turning round, he saw a large silvery-furred rabbit sitting beside the bed of dock leaves he had been laying on, apparently having been waiting for him to awake.

"Silver?" Alan gasped, hurrying forward, "Bloody hell dude, I thought Woundwort had beaten you to a pulp! How did you make it? Where are we? Where are the others?" To add to his surprise, 'Silver' shook his head, "I am afraid you are a bit confused, Time Traveller. My brave nephew and I shared quite a resemblance. Thank Frith, it's not yet his time to stop running and hopefully won't be for a long time to come…" Alan felt more perplexed than ever. Since when did comical, fun-loving Silver address him in such a formal a way? Suddenly, his host's own words fitted the explanation together, like a jigsaw puzzle. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"_Threarah_? Is that you? But you're dead!" Suddenly, his own words brought upon him another realisation, "So I am _dead_ too, right? Oh God, now I'll never see Lucy or my friends again…"

"That I am," replied the Threarah grimly, whose body, just like Alan's, had been completely renewed, nursed back to health and eternal youth, no longer the crumbling old ruin that Alan had met back at Sandleford. Now he could see that the former Chief Rabbit of Sandleford must have been a very powerful rabbit in his youth; he was the size of Bigwig and just as strong and, although he shared his nephew's overweight, he looked like an extremely proud and dignified rabbit, rather than the arrogant, pompous old cretin he had first met. "But whether or not _you_ are to remain here is still to be seen," the Threarah continued.

"But…I was killed!" Alan blurted out, remembering what had happened, "I threw myself from the balloon to kill Woundwort… Where is Woundwort? Is he here too?" But the Threarah interrupted him.

"Time Traveller, I understand you are confused and wish to have answers, but I am afraid, you must be patient; everything will be explained to you shortly. For now, I suggest you find comfort in the fact that thanks to your courage, the evil General Woundwort will never be harming another living soul ever again. You have fulfilled the task I assigned to you and in return, earned the respect and gratitude of me and my people. Come, there are others expecting you."

He followed the Threarah out of the chamber, through El-ahrairah's legendary and stunningly beautiful warren. In comparison to Sandleford, Cowslip's warren, the Honeycomb, and Efrafa, this place was truly a heavenly home, unlike anything ever found anywhere in the world of the living, whether it was a warren or a human habitation.

Fiver opened his eyes, looking around him dazed and confused. Where was he? What had happened? Then it all came back to him; finding Alan's comatose body and Silverweed 'sending' him into Alan's broken mind, to find him and bring him back. Had he made it? Was he in the Land Beyond Life?

As his eyes finally adjusted to the bright heavenly light that filled the place, he realised he was in a magnificent burrow of some unknown warren. He was lying on a bed of soft goose down, like a kitten having just opened its eyes in its mother's nest. Then, he also realised his body was now good as new; the scar on his neck from the homba attack had disappeared, as well as the one from the strychnine dart on his abdomen. His entire body felt renewed and in full health, all traces of every injury he had ever sustained in life having healed entirely. As he pulled himself out of the comfortable bedding, he realised he wasn't alone; standing beside him was a slender, middle-aged buck with identical creamy brown fur to Hazel's and his own. Fiver's jaw dropped in amazement, "_Parli_?"

"Yes, Hrair-roo, it's me my son," replied his father Walnut. Fiver was lost for words; his father, a proud and stern rabbit, had never shown him any real affection because of his sixth sense, which was seen by many as a taboo because of all the bad omens Fiver saw in his visions, giving his family a bad name. Although Walnut had never been cruel or abusive towards his youngest son, his neglectful attitude had taken its toll on Fiver. Even his siblings Peanut, Almond and Rosebud, had always maintained a rather scornful and non-affectionate attitude towards him and Hazel, who always stood up for him.

When his father and two older brothers had died, Fiver had quickly put it behind him, intent on moving on. However, never having had a father to look up to had left a deep void in his heart, which he had never been able to suppress…until this moment.

Now, coming into this realm, the eventual destination of every rabbit that stopped running, he had expected to see his departed friends expecting him. But meeting his _father_, who had always disliked and neglected him, waiting to greet him instead was unbelievable, "I…What are you doing here?" Walnut looked a bit hurt at his son's not-so-enthusiastic greeting, yet didn't dare chastise him, given that Fiver had a good reason not to miss him, "I am here to take you to your missing friend…and for a chance to talk to you privately." Fiver stared back at his father; back in the physical world, such a 'talk' usually meant a sound scolding. Only this time, it wasn't to be the case.

"Hrair-roo, I understand I am probably saying this a bit late, but I want you to know that I am truly sorry for what I used to say about you being a burden and a curse on our family. Your mother was right; my pride and arrogance made me blind and discriminate towards my own son…" Those words brought back some painful memories in Fiver's mind, from his childhood:

_Fiver's father was smoothly conversing with several of his friends. Fiver was hidden in the brush not too far off, so his father never got a chance to see nor smell him, which allowed him to say, to Fiver's hurt, "Thank Frith, I shall live to a happy old age to see my bucks and doe grow into fine healthy rabbits...except for that runt, Hrairoo." _

"_Why? Whatever is the matter with that rabbit?" asked another buck._

_Fiver's father answered coldly to his friend, "That buck will never amount to anything. He is too small to join the Owsla, is weak and always bullied around by the stronger bucks. Not that I blame them really…He cannot even do anything useful such as tell a story or take care of the kits. What makes it worse is that curse of a far sight he possesses; you should hear the others in the Owsla talking behind my back, 'His son is a curse on this warren. How do we know the rest of the family aren't too?' My decent, worthy sons and I are forced to bear such a humiliating discrimination, all because of that cursed little runt. And now I hear, my third oldest son, Kothen has chosen to give up his position in the Owsla in favour of that weakling! Oh, how I wish he had never been born or that I had killed Fiver when he was still a tiny kit." That night was one of the many nights when Fiver had cried non-stop._

Fiver looked back at his father who went on speaking, "Ever since the Black Rabbit of Inle brought me here, I have seen and learned so much from our Prince; humanity's forgotten past, their role in the creation of our world and the traitorous scheme of Lord Hemlock and his descendants to destroy any chance for peaceful co-existence with our creators. I, along with many others, have been watching you and your friends on your adventures. You've accomplished something that no other Owsla veteran that ever existed has ever done before; you and your friends helped resurrect the suppressed legacy of our Prince. For what it's worth Hrair-roo, you've made me proud; much more than even your Owsla brothers ever did." Fiver felt lost for words.

"Father, I…I don't know what to say! I…" Fiver mumbled, a great blossom of happiness suddenly blooming inside him; his father, even in death, had finally seen past his pride and accepted him for what he was. Sure enough, Walnut gently nuzzled his youngest son on the head whispering, "Just say you forgive me for taking so long to realise that size and strength aren't a measure of courage. In spite of my neglect, you've grown into an outstanding young buck, wise and courageous, and you've even found yourself a beautiful and intelligent doe. I am proud to be your father Hrair-roo and, by Frith, I mean it!" Fiver looked up at his father, as the older buck held him close, "Where is mother? And Almond, Peanut and Rosebud? Are they here too?"

"Your time to stop running hasn't come yet Hrair-roo; your mother was always there for you when she was alive, but I wasn't. That's why she insisted I come to greet you alone rather than as a whole family; so that we may share a moment of happiness together, just like she had always wanted. Now come, we don't have much time."

The Threarah led Alan above ground, outside the warren. The stunning beauty of the Land Beyond Life, just it was described in _The Cross Bearer_, was absolutely breathtaking. The landscape, which seemed to stretch out into infinity, was a vast garden without the faintest trace of weeds or briers. Rich and incredibly bountiful vegetation could be seen everywhere; trees of all kinds bearing the most delicious-looking fruit, formed every inch of woodland in sight, while the meadows were covered with the most beautiful flowers imaginable. The air was filled with aroma of all these natural treasures, without the faintest scent of pollution anywhere.

In the clear blue sky above their heads, the sun, which seemed to have a more live luminosity than in the physical world, showered this paradise with its eternal light and warmth. In comparison to the bio-engineered paradise of the 28th century, this world was tenfold its beauty and splendour; this world was a place where all hardships and struggles for survival always encountered in the physical world, including winter, warfare, disease and starvation, were entirely absent; just like it was described in the Bible, the Garden of Eden provided everything for its eternal tenants, under God's watchful eye.

As they crossed through a glade outside El-ahrairah's warren, Alan saw yet another surprise: There were several rabbits playing and running about, possibly ancestors of the Watership Down rabbits. Alan could vaguely recognise some as the slaves that had died during the battle of Efrafa, having finally found happiness. But that wasn't what surprised him; the group didn't consist just of rabbits, but of humans too! Men, women and children of different ages and nationalities were interacting with the lagomorphs, almost as if they all part of a large and loving family.

A quick glance at the khaki attire of one young man playing Bobstones with one of the bucks, confirmed they were all former HAB settlers that had died during Hemlock's reign of terror; those that had sided with El-ahrairah and fought against Hemlock on his side. Alan felt more perplexed than ever, as a quote from the Cross Bearer flashed in his mind, _"Do you remember saying, that despite the potential of love and altruism a human soul carries, it can be overpowered by the vice and ruthlessness of the dark, evil sins that can only appeal to the hearts of men? If you remain here, you could never maintain your heart and soul to be free of evil, and over time, your being in the land beyond life will eventually corrupt it, for this realm is a paradise only for the beasts of Frith. Henceforth, your mere presence here threatens to upset the balance of good in the land beyond life."_ But if the text of the _Cross Bearer_ was right, then why wasn't his kind seen as foul alien creatures trespassing in the holy safe haven of the animal kingdom? Why were all these rabbits so accepting of humans?

By this time, others had become aware of Alan's arrival and were staring at him wide-eyed. As he walked along, he could hear hushed muttering that sounded like, "It's the Time Traveller; the Gift of Prince Rainbow has come to pass. El-ahrairah's legacy has been resurrected!" They kept on walking through the orchards, until they came to some sort of cave in the side of a hill. The Threarah gestured at Alan to enter and the man obeyed, expecting to see the dim chamber of another warren.

He stepped through the cavern entrance into bright light, almost as if he had just stepped into the sun itself. As his eyes adjusted, allowing him to get a good look at his surroundings, he saw he was standing inside a large grotto of white crystals, the dome-shaped roof of the cave towering above his head. In the centre of that natural dome was a massive crystal that seemed to face outwards through a hole in the ceiling, towards the sky, allowing the bright sunlight to pour through it, in bright rainbow colours. Just beneath the giant crystal that transmitted the sunlight was a circular crater, also made of sparkling crystals, forming some sort of fountain; a small waterfall fed the fountain, which gave the impression of been some sort of blessing site.

Standing around the fountain was a crowd of people and rabbits, seemingly expecting his arrival. Sure enough, hearing his footsteps, they turned to look at him, so he could see their faces. The sight nearly took his breath away; standing before him were all his friends and family he had seen die over the years, as well as a few others he had briefly known in life: his parents Jack and Susan, Dr Drake and his family, Santon, Major McEwen, Pimpernel, Boxwood, Haystack, Nildrohein, Acorn, Speedwell, Buckthorn, Rubscuttle, Laurel and, standing before them, El-ahrairah, the Prince of Rabbits himself, who stepped forward to greet him, "Welcome to Frith's Sun Cave, Time Traveller."

Before Alan could utter a single word however, someone tore through the crowd and next second, he found himself engulfed in a mess of flaming red hair, as someone he thought he had lost forever embraced him in a bone-crushing hug, "Oh my God, Alan, I am so sorry. I should have told you about Miles' discovery when I had the chance. It's all because of me that you and our little girl had to suffer by that…that despicable man. Oh Alan I am so sorry…"

"Mary…" Alan muttered as he held his wife close to embrace her, "No love, the fault is mine; I shouldn't have left you alone and unprotected. If anything, I deserved all that pain and suffering as much as Robbins and his Red Hand goons deserved their bitter fate. And now, I've failed Lucy again; I am dead and our daughter will now be growing up completely parentless." He lowered his head in sadness but his father, who was standing right behind him, placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, "No Alan, you _aren't_ dead; you are going back." Alan looked at his father in shock, who turned to El-ahrairah. The Prince With The Thousand Enemies stepped forward, smiling at Alan.

"Time Traveller, I understand your confusion but don't fret; we're about to explain everything. However, since we don't have much time, I beg your patience and full attention. It's time you learned the full truth behind your recent adventures. Cole, if you please…" Alan settled down beside his wife, along with the others, as Drake started talking.

"After you left to return to the future, Santon and I dedicated all our efforts in making secret preparations for the upcoming catastrophe. While I worked on Project Utopia in secret, Santon focused on preserving the secrecy of the future since, despite the precautious you took, there were a lot of rumours about how you had disappeared and my connection to it. Using my father's money, we formed a small secret society of volunteers, including my family, called the League of the New World, which secretly made plans for the dawn of the new world. When doomsday arrived, Santon and I were able to use our connections to secure passes to the HAB for every member of the League, taking all our work with us. Several years later, we decided it was time; as you probably saw in my log, we successfully completed Project Utopia, effectively bringing Richard Adams' world to life." Finished with his part, El-ahrairah then picked up from where Drake had left off.

"Rubscuttle, Laurel, Hemlock and I were born underground, among Cole and his people. While we waited for Frith to return to the world, Cole and his friends prepared us for our new life, hoping that we would be able to share the new world together. Simmone, who was the expert in our foretold life's story as well as the first fluent Lapine speaker, taught us Lapine as well as all the customs and traditions described in the Adams novel, which we adapted as our culture. By the time we reached maturity, Frith finally returned and the grass started to grow again. As soon as there was enough vegetation to sustain us, we set off to establish our first warren in the new world and await the birth of our first children. That was when Drake realised that there would soon be an overpopulation of vegetarians, eventually resulting in our own self-destruction."

"After consulting with me, we agreed that he would have to introduce the elil, to keep our population numbers under control. Rubscuttle also reluctantly agreed; Hemlock however, saw this as a betrayal. Even Laurel, who feared to see her children hunted and killed, sided with Hemlock, taking some of her children with her. However, when she realised Hemlock's plans to destroy us all in revenge and establish a kingdom of tyranny, she tried to deserted and warn us, but was hunted down and killed before she could tell a soul." They all turned to look at Laurel, who drooped her ears in shame at the memory. El-ahrairah gave her a reassuring smile and went on speaking.

"It would have been the end for Cole and his people, if it hadn't been for Santon, who already knew of Hemlock's plan from the information you had entrusted to him. The attack was thwarted but Hemlock escaped and started rebuilding his Owsla with the help of that traitor Shertok, who had been in hiding, awaiting Hemlock's rise to power so he could join him. Years later, they returned with an overwhelming Owsla I was killed defending our people. Hemlock was eventually defeated but his dark legacy lived on, diving our descendants into two opposing sides. I have been watching all these centuries, as my legacy crumbled in a world of animosity and distrust." Having finished with his part of the story, El-ahrairah stood aside and Rubscuttle continued.

"After my master died, I felt so heartbroken and desperate, I believed, to my eternal shame, that humans were indeed a curse upon our kind just like Hemlock had always said, and that we would be far better off without them. As my master's successor, I banished Cole and his people from our territory, as punishment for failing to protect my master. I decided that I would preserve my master's legacy, but I wouldn't allow my people to associate with humans ever again. When the Great Cold fell upon our world, I died of starvation and Cole also died shortly thereafter. Although our descendants lived on, because of Hemlock's influence, as well as my own, humans were only remembered as foul beasts all these centuries, until you came along." Next, it was the Threarah's turn.

"As my nephew told you tonight, your appearance in our world had been foretold and known as the legend of the Gift of Prince Rainbow. I had learned about the former existence of intelligent humans from my forefathers, yet I was sceptical about revealing it to my people, fearing your legacy might bring more animosity and unrest to our world. Then, disaster struck when Woundwort discovered our warren when my expedition run foul of his Owsla. I managed to escape and made it back just in time to sound the alarm and Woundwort fled, swearing revenge. Indeed, he proved to be as bad as his word when he unearthed some sort of man-made object left over from your time, which unleashed a plague of White Blindness upon us. Thinial was destroyed; to save my warren, I was forced to have the Owsla drive out anyone infected, including my sister and the rest of Silver's siblings, to control the disease. Fortunately, Woundwort believed us to have all been wiped out and didn't launch another invasion, so we were able to rebuild."

"A man-made object you said?" Alan asked, realising what the Threarah was talking about, "You mean a biochemical container with the Myxomatosis virus," he said, remembering how back in his time, the English countryside was sweeping with agricultural research facilities, which often stockpiled toxins; following the Apocalypse, all these poisons had been left unattended, preserved in sealed containers, waiting for someone to unleash them, either accidentally or deliberately. Woundwort had apparently discovered one of these sites and, knowing what could happen, unleashed the virus into the environment, intent on annihilating Thinial and Sandleford, without a direct confrontation.

"This act of aggression made me realise that Woundwort was Hemlock's descendant, continuing his ancestor's dream of conquest, as well as hunting for humanity's long lost legacy; all your knowledge of mastery over nature, with which he intended to enforce his rule upon our world. It was then when I realised that all Woundwort needed to fulfil his evil ambitions was a human from your time, who could either willingly or forcibly be coaxed into using all that knowledge for his gain. If the Gift of Prince Rainbow came to pass, and worked in Woundwort's favour…"

"Don't say it old chap; my son knows _that_ better than anybody," Johnson Sr interrupted, "It would be a dark future of destruction beyond comprehension, which would ultimately lead to another Apocalypse."

"Tell me about it," Alan said, finally realising the danger the Threarah had been trying to keep at bay with his secrecy, "Robbins had precisely such dark plans in mind, even before he joined forces with Woundwort. And he damn well nearly succeeded; if we didn't have the advantage of travelling back in time to set things right, Project Black Inferno would have destroyed everything…"

"Which brings us back to _you_ Alan," El-ahrairah said calmly, bringing the conversation back on track, "Ever since my legacy fell over seven centuries ago, everyone had relied on the hope that the Gift of Prince Rainbow would be the key to end the era of conflict and hatred. The two opposing sides had reached a stalemate; on one side, my people were thriving yet living under the shadow of Woundwort's threat, while on the other, there was Woundwort lying low, concealing his existence, while enlarging his forces by enslaving any hlessil or any warrens he captured, waiting for the right time to start his conquest in earnest."

"The prophecy was correct then," Alan concluded, "We were destined to change your world for the better or for the worst. On one hand, there was me, with the knowledge of the tale of _Watership Down_, and the appreciation of its virtues, making me the defender of your legacy. On the other hand, there was Robbins who simply chose to side with whatever suited his best interests; he was exactly the deadly instrument Woundwort sought. Robbins and I were two mortal enemies, locked in a fight to the death. The winning side would determine whose legacy would triumph; Hemlock's legacy of tyranny and slavery, or El-ahrairah's legacy of peaceful coexistence, right?"

"While you're right about the second notion, I am afraid you've slightly misunderstood your role in the prophecy," El-ahrairah explained, "You weren't meant to be a mindless pawn to be used against the enemy. This certainly applied from Woundwort's perspective, since he hated Robbins as much as he hated you or any other human, yet accepted him among his ranks under false promises of generous rewards. The two of them were never real friends or comrades; from Woundwort's point of view, Robbins was nothing but that mindless pawn he spoke of; a disposable asset that could do his dirty work and then be discarded. You, on the other hand, who willingly _chose_ to become the destined protector of my people without any expectations for a reward, were also fighting your _own_ battle as well as ours; fighting against the injustice Robbins had inflicted upon you."

"So my role in guiding the rabbits of Watership Down through all of this wasn't a mere _coincidence_ after all; my success in this mission would also determine the course of my own life. Our fates had become intertwined for a reason: to fulfil a common purpose," Alan concluded, chuckling at the obvious, which he had taken so long to realise.

"Fate, as well as occasional help from your departed friends and family," the Threarah said, gesturing towards the fountain; staring down at the water, Alan saw the ripples suddenly stop, making the surface flat, like a giant mirror. Staring down at where his reflection should be, instead he saw himself being menaced by a man with a revolver; he was staring at his _memories_, the one from the graveyard, when Robbins had first tried to kill him. He saw Robbins fire the gun…and in slow motion, he saw something move under his shirt; Julio's compass had flipped sideways, as if moved by an invisible hand… In an instant, Alan realised what this was all about.

"It was _you_ who saved me from that bullet?" The Threarah nodded, "And the wire that snagged Pipkin's leg when he was carried away by the current? And Violet, dropped by the hawk at the perfect moment when I could catch her? All these 'lucky scrapes' were _your_ doing? But how could you possibly…?"

"Your departed friends and beloved ones, although physically dead, continue to run alongside you in spirit for ever," El-ahrairah explained, "We have been watching over you and your friends throughout your journey. You have fulfilled your destiny with regards to Woundwort, but not with regards to _yourself_; you still have to reclaim your life, currently under grave threat…"

"But how can I return, if I've been killed?" interrupted Alan, "How is it even possible that I am _here_ in the first place? I thought the Land Beyond Life is a sacred heaven for _animals_. God banished man from the Garden of Eden after they ate the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge; the very thing that threatened your world. How is it possible that this sacred place is now swarming with _people_ that have passed on? Was the story of _The Cross Bearer_ wrong?" Retaining his patience, El-ahrairah explained.

"When Cole created us, he used human genes to give us the ability of human speech, intelligence and all the other qualities that allow us to interact with humans as well as with our own kind. As a result, that created a bond, both physical and spiritual, which makes it part of our nature to be accepting of humans. The tale of the _Cross Bearer_ wasn't wrong; the Land Beyond Life isn't meant to accommodate humans, a destined threat to this realm. However, since we are _partly_ human, that rule doesn't apply for our kind. Our bond, which you yourself sealed, I might add, allows us to accept any of our human friends who wish to continue running with us after death." Alan's jaw dropped in amazement,

"A bond created by _me_? How did this happen? I didn't…"

"When you escaped back to your own time, in hopes of undoing the dark future, fate put your heart to the test: you performed a noble sacrifice that renewed humanity's once-forsaken bond with nature." Seeing Alan's blank expression, El-ahrairah explained, "You had the power to save your world; you knew of the upcoming destruction of civilisation, yet you did nothing to change it. Why?" Alan considered for a moment. Why had he left the Old World to its foretold fate without warning? His first thought was that he hadn't wanted to risk changing the future too much, although he hadn't actually given it much thought at the time.

"It's just that I…I didn't believe the world would have had any real chance of starting over by preventing the rise of your own; the human world of the 21st century was a world of warfare, corruption, and destruction. I think I probably felt that the human world could only be _reborn_ as a _new_ world, if humanity were to have any future at all." El-ahrairah's eyes twinkled.

"Exactly Alan. Therefore, by proving that some humans are indeed capable or retaining their ties with nature, our warren and territory is the only place in the Land Beyond Life, where some humans that have stopped running are allowed to venture by choice. The rule of our heavenly sanctuary hasn't changed; our home has become an _exception_, an embassy of sorts for the human race, through our bond. I believe this was also foretold in our tale?"

"The Bridge of Prince Rainbow! Of course!" Alan exclaimed, remembering something from another Watership Down story called _Blackavar's Gift_, "A bond established between the love of a farm girl and her hutch rabbit, right?" El-ahrairah's eyes twinkled again, "Right again Alan; in this case, it was mine and Cole's love and friendship for each other. As you've probably noticed, the only humans that can venture here are those who, like you, believed in the virtues and well being of our world. Their souls are marked with that noble cause which grants them passage into our safe heaven so they can be with their heart-brothers forever."

"So if I have also been granted a place here, then that means I can…" Alan blurted out, anxious to get to the bottom line. Was he to here to stay or not? The answer revealed itself as the Threarah gestured down at the fountain again; Alan saw himself again, this time when he fell from the balloon. He watched himself plummet into the inferno, being washed away by the river and the current smashing him against the rock, splitting his head open. As he watched his seemingly lifeless body continue to drift with the current, he noticed that invisible hand again, tugging on the cord of the lifejacket he was wearing, which inflated itself and his comatose body shot back to the surface, preventing him from drowning…

"You are still physically alive Time Traveller," Rubscuttle explained, "Your broken body has a long road to recovery but it isn't your time to stop running yet…unless you _choose_ to stay and let your soul completely part company with the physical world." At these words Alan felt tempted. His task back in the physical world was complete; Woundwort and his army were defeated and he was finally reunited with his wife. Perhaps he should consider his life fulfilled and embrace the everlasting peace of the afterlife?

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a soft, distant voice, calling him in the wind, _"Alan, please wake up. Alan, it's me, Fiver! Can you hear me? Alan, please don't be dead. Alan, wake up!"_ Alan's heart melted as he recognised Fiver's sad and desperate voice, undoubtedly having discovered his broken body, begging him to awake. Turning back to the spectators, the expressions on their faces told him the obvious, "I have to go back. But how?" The Prince of Rabbits smiled at Alan's selfless decision.

"Your physical body is still alive but your mind is broken from your injuries, which is why your soul has entered this realm. If you were to simply return to your body now, which is currently ill-fitted to house your soul, you would die or otherwise be trapped in an empty shell of a body, never to awake. To return to your body, you must first undertake a Life Memory Journey, to relive your life's key events and be reminded of your purpose in life, to revive your broken mind."

"What is this Life Memory Journey?" Alan asked, "And what do you mean, 'relive my life's key events'? Does it mean I have to be _reborn_ and relive my life all over again?" he asked nervously. But El-ahrairah shook his head in reassurance, "No, you won't have to be_ reborn_. The Life Memory Journey allows someone to explore his life's crucial memories as a _spectator_, which should hopefully help you reawaken your currently dormant mind."

"I don't understand; I haven't lost my mind. I remember everything that happened to me clear as day…" But El-ahrairah calmly raised a paw to silence him, "Any injuries you have sustained in the physical world can't be felt in the renewed body you receive when entering the Land Beyond Life. To undertake the Life Memory Journey, you will also need a powerful mystic, like your friend Silverweed, to initiate it from the physical world, as well as a seer on this end to accompany you, so your memories may reawaken through his far sight.

"But when on earth will I…?" Alan asked, his hopes plummeting. Where would he find a _living_ seer to help him return to the world of the living if everyone in this world were dead? To his surprise, El-ahrairah didn't seem concerned in the least, as he calmly gestured over Alan's shoulder to another newcomer. Alan turned round just in time to see a small mousy-furred buck jump into his embrace, nearly knocking him over, "Fiver?"

"Oh Alan, I've found you!" the young buck sobbed with delight as Alan felt his insides run cold, "What happened? How did you get here? You didn't…oh no!" he gasped, thinking that Fiver was dead too. But Fiver only shook his head reassuringly, "No, I am still alive and so are you. I had another vision that led us to your comatose body, washed up far downstream. Silverweed used those strange powers of his to send me here; he said I would have to follow the path indicated in my vision to find you. And I…" He was suddenly struck dumb in shock as he recognised El-ahrairah standing right behind Alan as well as the other rabbits and humans that stood in the grotto, all of which he knew to be dead.

Although his father had already explained to him that he was in the Land Beyond Life, the eventual destination of every rabbit that stopped running, the sight of seeing his dead friends and ancestors standing before him, young and healthy, almost as if they had never died at all, was completely overwhelming to say the least. And there was no doubt why he was here; Silverweed had sent him, so they could undertake the Life Memory Journey together to return, to the world of the living. Sure enough, El-ahrairah went on speaking.

"You see Alan, your life is far from complete; your friends and family on the other side think so anyway. If you choose to stay with us, you'd be leaving a deep void in their hearts that will pain them for the rest of their lives." Alan sighed, realising that he would inevitably soon have to part company with his wife…again. Just like the character Justin from the _Cross Bearer_, his future was back in the world of the living and not the afterlife. He turned to El-ahrairah, "I guess we're ready to embark on the Life Memory Journey."

"Your courage for facing the unknown never fails to amaze me," the Prince of Rabbits commented, "However, I should caution you that the Life Memory Journey carries a certain risk: As you relive your memories and thoughts, your deepest regrets and fears may also resurface, as well as any horrible realisations you never even knew existed; that might work in a negative way, causing you to lose your willpower to return and interrupt the Life Memory Journey. Should that happen, you could both end up trapped for eternity in a realm of your own tormenting thoughts." Fiver shuddered at the thought; Alan however calmly replied, "We'll make it back…hopefully."

"You have my blessing," El-ahrairah said, a twinkle visible in his stunning eyes, as he gestured at the fountain, "This is the Frith's Fountain of Destiny; visions of the Past, Present and Future reside in its waters for eternity. This fountain is your path to embark on your Journey." Staring down at the water, Alan could see transparent scenes materialising beneath its mirror-like surface; an archive of flashbacks of the events of Time, similar to Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve in the _Harry Potter_ stories. On the rim of the fountain were some narrow marble steps, leading down to the water; his and Fiver's way home. With their departure imminent, the spectators stepped forward to say their goodbyes.

Drake stepped forward first and shook Alan's hand, "I owe everything to you sir; I would never have accomplished any of this without you. My only regret is that I won't be able to share it with you. I got to see the new world _born_, but unfortunately I didn't live long enough to _enjoy_ it. Instead, it's for you and your friends to make the most of it; it's my legacy to you." Alan felt a slight twinge of guilt, remembering how he had lied to Drake about Hemlock, sealing humanity's doom in the process, as well as his colleague's. But the scientist only smiled, "Don't apologise; you did the right thing by not telling me the whole story. Had you told me the truth prematurely, I would have most likely gotten cold feet and abandoned the project. Now, a new and better world is waiting to be born through you and your friends. Farewell and good luck to you both." He stepped back into the crowd to rejoin his family, as Santon stepped forward.

"Well Professor, I guess there isn't much to say, is there? I just wanted to congratulate you for your performance during the battle; it was something completely worth going down in history, even better that when you defeated the Red Hand Brotherhood. My sincere congratulations to you, Sir Johnson and thank you for giving me the opportunity to make a true difference to the world I swore to serve and protect." He shook Alan's hand and then stepped back.

Major McEwen stepped forward next, "It was a privilege fighting alongside you; I only regret I won't be attending the victory celebrations with you. Good luck Professor, and look after my wife; she's yours now." Alan stared back at McEwen is surprise, lost for words, but the former Air Force pilot spoke first, "I knew what was going on between you two since I heard you call her 'Josie' over the radio. However, it doesn't matter anymore; I am dead and she has to move on. She truly loves you Alan and don't you dare turn her away over a dead man. Remember that. Goodbye." He shook his hand and gave him a dignified military salute, which Alan returned, before stepping back into the crowd.

The Threarah was next, looking rather uneasy. Alan nodded curtly at him as the former Chief Rabbit of Sandleford finally found his words, "Tell Silver I am proud of him for his courage during the battle of Efrafa. Tell him I am sorry I never was the affectionate relative I should have been towards him. My neglect towards him was just as inexcusable as my prejudice towards you." Alan calmly patted the Threarah on the shoulder in reassurances.

"There is no point in blaming yourself pal; your heart was always set on protecting your people and I respect that. And I don't think your nephew would hold that against you, despite the neglect you've shown him. I am sure he'll accept your apology when I tell him; if your apology alone is good enough for me, then it's good enough for him." The Threarah nodded grimly, "Thank you Time Traveller. Frith be with you…_both_ of you," he said, also curtly nodding at Fiver, who nodded back. Without another word, he turned and retreated into the crowd.

Speedwell and Buckthorn were next, their faces alight with laughter and happiness, despite the sadness of Alan and Fiver's imminent departure. The twins playfully nudged Alan in the sides, "You did it chap; you sent that slimeball Woundwort to rot in the Black Rabbit's layer as he deserved. You old chap are a real wonder buck…except of course at Bobstones, where _I_ am the wonder buck," Speedwell chanted in a comical, pompous-like tone.

"Excuse me, _I_ am the Bobstones wonder buck, thick-ears!" Buckthorn retorted incredulously, playfully cuffing his twin over the head. Alan and Fiver rolled their eyes at Acorn and Pimpernel who were grinning at their friends' antics nearby, "Those two never change, huh?" But El-ahrairah's sad stare reminded them that time was running short, so he cleared his throat, interrupting the twins' playful fight, "Sorry to crash the party guys, but I am afraid we have to cut it short. Is there anything you want us to do, any message to deliver to the others when we make it back?"

"As a matter of fact, there is something I want you to promise me…promise _both_ of us," Speedwell replied, his humour suddenly abandoned, "I want you to make sure that my nephews will grow up knowing their father." Alan looked rather surprised; Speedwell had been so jealous and heartbroken of losing Violet to his cousin, it had started the bitter animosity between them. As if reading his mind, Speedwell continued, "The fight between me and Bluebell had nothing to do with Violet or her kittens. Just before I died, I watched Violet fret about Bluebell; she truly loves him and I feel ashamed it took me so long to realise it. But I still care for her greatly and I want her to be happy; I want her to have a _full_, not a broken family. As a last wish, I ask you to do everything within your power to ensure that Bluebell survives to be with his family. I don't want my cousin showing his ugly face here until after my nephews are of a ripe old age."

"Although, unfortunately, I can't promise you that Bluebell will recover," Alan said, remembering that Bluebell was badly injured and unlikely to survive, "I can promise you that I'll do everything within my power to save him." Although a bit saddened at the fact that Bluebell might soon be joining him in death, leaving a distraught Violet with four fatherless kittens to raise alone, Speedwell was satisfied, "That's good enough for me. And tell Violet I love her dearly and I will always be watching over her. Also, tell Bluebell he has my blessing and that I deeply regret turning my back on him all these seasons." Alan and Fiver said their final goodbyes to their dead friends before they stepped back into the crowd.

Alan's parents were next, the couple embracing their youngest son. Alan felt stunned as his mother hugged him tightly; he had never experienced that touch before, given that his mother had died giving birth to him, so he had only known her through family photographs or stories from his father, "I love you so much Alan. Your father and I have been watching you grow up alone all these years, yet you've become an outstanding young man. We were so upset with Royce, turning his back on you because of that stupid childhood grudge…"

"I still don't know how I could have been so careless and left my two boys on their own," Jack Johnson added grimly, "I should have been there for you, to watch you both grow up and help Royce get over his grudge and accept you as his brother, as he should have. I am so sorry son…"

"Dad, nothing will change the past. The fact that I am able to talk to you one last time and to meet Mum, just this once, is enough for me move on." Susan Johnson looked on the verge of tears as she kissed her son goodbye. Finally, Mary approached Alan.

"I don't know what to say dear," she murmured, tearful and lost for words, "I only wish I could…" Alan gently held her close, hugging her, "Maybe a short, quick farewell would be easiest…" Mary managed to hold back her tears as she hugged her husband, "Promise me you'll follow Derek's wise advise and move on; I want Lucy to grow up knowing her father to be full of life and happiness. And that girl Josie, I am sure she'll make a fine replacement for me; I don't want Lucy growing up motherless." Alan nodded and Mary kissed him; the last kiss they would ever share together, "I love you Alan. Live well and be happy…for me." She then turned and fled back into the crowd holding back tears.

Their last farewells having being said, Alan and Fiver approached the rim of the fountain; just as they were about to descend the steps to the water, they both turned to look at their departed friends one last time, who chanted, "U vahra ma, rusati ma, ven atha ma."

"My friend, my brother in my heart," Alan translated in reply, remembering the famous old rabbit adage, which was used in times of praising someone with utmost respect, loyalty and honour.

The two friends stepped into the water of the Fountain of Destiny; it felt amazingly light, almost like thick gas, rather than liquid. Next second, an intense light shone above their heads and the water begun to churn; the crystal above the fountain was alight, as a portal opened for them. The light intensified until Alan could see nothing but whiteness, before everything dissolved around them; the Land Beyond Life, Frith's Sun Cave, the spectators, everything vanished, as he and Fiver embarked on their Life Memory Journey.

Author's note: For those who read a lot of WD fanfiction, the Land Beyond Life is borrowed from _The Cross Bearer_ by RogueFanKC. Also, Prince Rainbow's Bridge is borrowed from Loganberry's _Blackavar's Gift_. My undying thanks to them for granting me permission to borrow some of his work as well as all the useful reviews they've given me. Coming up next, the Life Memory Journey. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	55. Chapter 55 Life Memory Journey Part1

Alan could feel a smooth wooden surface beneath him; he was lying facedown on a polished pinewood floor. Staring to his left, he could see the shadowed underside of a bed, which looked very familiar. Even the scents in the air smelled familiar… Of course! He was back in his apartment in Drayton Court, having fallen out of bed, from a nightmare, it seemed. Sadness and disappointment instantly blossomed inside him.

_It was just a dream_, he thought miserably, _Just a bloody dream; the rabbits of Watership Down, the future, finding Lucy alive, the Land Beyond Life, everything…_ He just lay there, hoping he would drift off to sleep again, when he was startled by something furry nuzzling him in the neck, "Alan, get up." He looked up and saw Fiver standing beside him; in an instant, his heart was pounding a mile a minute as he realised it hadn't been a dream after all! Shakily, he got to his feet and the two companions looked around them. Was this part of the Life Memory Journey? But why were they _here_ of all places?

"We're back in your old home," Fiver observed, also recognising the master bedroom of Alan's London apartment, "But what are we supposed to find here?"

"I was just about to ask myself the same question," Alan said, looking around in confusion. Everything was just as he remembered it; the four-poster bed, the carved oak dresser, the Dutch fireplace and the reddish Victorian panelling. Everything was just as he had left them…but no, something was different! The home cinema television that usually stood in the corner by the door had been substituted with an old-fashioned bulgy television, the clothes in the open closet were a long out-of-date fashion and even the alarm clock on the bedside table was an ancient mechanical model.

Glancing out of the window, he saw the all-too-familiar neighbourhood of Drayton Court in Kensington. Only that had looked different as well; the passing buses were the old red double-deckers that hadn't been used since Alan was a child and even the cars seemed to be of a past era, judging by a 1970's Renault passing in the street beneath. Even the people, although vaguely familiar, were people, most of which Alan knew either to be dead or living in nursing homes.

Suddenly, as he turned to look at Fiver, he saw his friend standing with his back against the bedpost; only, as he looked again, he realised the post was actually pierced through the top of Fiver's head! Or rather, Fiver seemed to be standing right in the middle of the _space_ the bedpost occupied, as if the bed wasn't solid. Sure enough as he tried to pick up the clock from the bedside table, his hand went straight through it, as if it were a mere optical illusion. Even the wooden floor, which usually creaked under someone's footsteps, now sounded dead quiet under his feet, even as he tried thumping on it with his heel. Staring in the direction of the mirror fixed to the dresser, he also noticed that his and Fiver's reflections were missing; the mirror only reflected the seemingly deserted bedroom. It was almost as if they had become ghosts, solid and visible only to each other. Suddenly, voices from down the hall caught their attention.

Hurrying out the door (or rather running through a seemingly solid closed door), they followed the voice into Alan's office. That room too, just like the rest of the apartment, had changed; gone was the greenhouse on the balcony as well as Alan's computer on the desk, which had been substituted with an obsolete electric typewriter. Even the books in the bookcase were different, irrelevant to Alan's field of biology. Seated at the desk, smoking a pipe and typing rapidly, was a man who looked almost identical to Alan, minus the hazel eyes; Alan gasped as he stared at a younger version of his father. Not surprisingly, the man didn't register their presence even though he had stared in their direction more than once; it was almost as if Alan and Fiver weren't standing there at all.

A quick glance at the calendar on the desk, confirmed that they had indeed gone back through time, to the 2nd June 1978 to be exact; the day Alan had been born. However, in contrast to last time, when they had had the power to interact and change history at their own accord, now they were mere spectators, completely invisible and non-existent to the world of 1978.

Suddenly, a cry was heard from the direction of the lounge and a young boy of about three came running in (or rather run _through_ Alan and Fiver). Jack Johnson looked up from his typewriter and smiled down at his first son, _"Hey Royce, what are you up to, you little bugger?"_

"_Mum's not feeling well, Dad!" _youngRoyce Johnson said urgently. In an instant, Johnson Sr was on his feet and followed his son into the living room, Alan and Fiver in tow. That room too was just like from Alan's time with all the antique Chippendale furniture, yet several differences indicated the different era; the carefully arranged photographs on the wall above the sofa, which formed Alan's family tree, had some links missing; he could see his parents' photographs with another photograph beneath labelled Royce Johnson; Alan's deceased older brother as a toddler. His own photograph along with those of Mary and Lucy, were absent.

A young blond woman with an intelligent face lay panting on the sofa, her abdomen bulging from pregnancy. Jack Johnson bent over his wife Susan, who was sweating and moaning; she was going into labour, "_Jack…I think the baby is coming. I need to get to hospital!"_ Jack Johnson instantly picked up his pregnant wife in his arms and rushed to the door, before turning to Royce, _"Roy, you go wait at Mrs Hanson's till I get back, there's a good lad."_ As the front door closed behind them, Alan and Fiver found themselves alone for a second, before the room melted away and a new scene materialised around them.

They were still in the same room, some ten years later; a new photograph had since been added to the family tree, showing Alan as a child alongside his father and brother. Thirteen-year-old Royce looked distinctively more depressed than before his brother's birth and even Jack Johnson seemed to have lost his usual smile. Susan Johnson was nowhere to be seen, as she had died giving birth to her youngest son. The family sat beneath their Christmas tree, celebrating Christmas Day in the year 1988.

Alan watched his ten-year-old self opening his presents; the Commando knife, which he would carry around with him for the rest of his life, fell out of the wrapper, _"Cool Dad!"_ young Alan said, brandishing the shiny blade from it's holster. Jack Johnson chuckled, _"Careful Al; that's a real weapon you've got there. Who knows, maybe some day if you join the Royal Marines, you'll learn how to use it properly. Maybe slit a guy's throat out…"_ he joked, causing his youngest son to start laughing. Royce however, didn't find it amusing.

_"You mean, he trains to do what he was meant to do since he was born? Wasn't Mum enough?"_ Jack Johnson looked at his oldest son in disappointment, _"Roy, I believe we've talked about this enough times. Don't spoil Christmas with the same crap."_ But Royce wasn't finished, _"It's because of him that Mum is dead Dad and you know it!"_ Young Alan, feeling utterly heartbroken fled from the room, as the eldest Johnson rounded on his oldest son.

"_I think you should apologize to Alan,"_ he said sternly and Royce seemed to grow even angrier as his father reprimanded him, _"This stupid grudge you've always had against him has gone far enough. Your mother wanted you to have a younger sibling, and tormenting your brother like this is an insult to her memory. Now, if you don't apologize to Alan and start acting your age, you'll be grounded until to decide to grow up!"_ Royce looked as if he wanted to shout back at his father but instead he turned and headed towards his room, sulking. Johnson Sr sat there alone, looking sadly at the photograph of his deceased wife on the wall. Why did she have to leave them, resulting in this animosity between their two sons?

Alan and Fiver stood staring at the scene; Alan was pale and Fiver looked on the verge of tears. Alan, in particular, although having gotten over his brother's neglect long ago, reliving this memory clear as day felt highly depressing to say the least. Before he knew what was happening, the scene ended and the Life Memory Journey continued.

A new scene materialised around them; this time, they had left England completely. The brownish flora of the African savannah in the Republic of Kenya materialised around them; Jack, Royce and Alan, all dressed in wilderness uniforms, were seated in a canoe, accompanied by a black guide, on one of Jack's safaris. Suddenly, a deranged hippo sprang from the deep, attacking the boat. Jack and the African guide opened fire, trying to drive off the hippo that was chewing the canoe in half. Soon the animal, wounded and in pain, retreated back to the deep. After managing to bring the wrecked canoe to shore, the group examined their equipment. Jack was the first to discover he had lost his bag containing most of their malaria pills for the journey as well as their radio to call for help.

"_The nearest outpost is at least a three days trek; the medication we have left is barely enough to sustain three people for that long. Nuru, you are the only one who knows the way back and my boys need it more than I do; I must quit using the pills, if the three of you are going to make it." _Alan and Royce looked horrified.

_"But without those pills, the mosquito bites will make you sick within a day!"_ Jack sighed, knowing he was in trouble, yet managed to maintain his composure, _"Never mind Al; most likely I'll just come down with a little fever. After all, I've been through worst scrapes than this…" _But Alan had already realised the harsh truth, as he saw his father whispering some instructions to their guide in Zulu, who nodded grimly, _"Yes, Bowana Johnson."_

By the morning of the second day, Jack was running a fever of 104 and rising. By the third day, he had to be carried on a makeshift stretcher. As soon as they had reached the nearest outpost, a chopper was radioed in and Jack was flown to hospital in Nairobi and put on life support. But the malaria was already in its final stages by then and within a few days he was dead. Alan and Royce, now complete orphans, were taken back to England with their father's body. After the funeral, they were placed in an orphanage, while Mrs Hanson looked after their home until they would come of age and come into their inheritance.

Alan and Fiver, who were watching the scene from the middle of the river (being in a memory realm allowed them to stand on water), felt everything dissolve around them as the memory ended and a new scene materialised around them. They were back in London, but not in Alan's apartment.

A plain dormitory with several wooden bunkers and some shabby lockers as its only furnishings materialised around them. It was _St Mary's Home For Orphans_ orphanage, where Alan and Royce had moved in following their father's death. Father Herbert Campbell, a priest and retired soldier, who run the orphanage, was introducing the two brothers to their new dorm mates, _"Good afternoon lads. This is Alan and Royce Johnson; they've come to join us and will be sharing your dormitory,"_ he said, addressing three other boys of around Alan's age, also recent arrivals, who had come to greet the newcomers, _"I'll leave you to get acquainted."_

"_Hi, my name is Deke Shaw; I am from Dublin,"_ said an eleven-year-old Derek Shaw, a rather large boy with ginger hair,_ "My parents were immigrants who came here looking for jobs but died in poverty. I was picked off the streets and brought here only a few weeks ago. These chaps here are Hotdog and Fields,"_ he said gesturing to the other two boys that stood beside him.

"_Hi, I am from Glasgow," _said Johnny Boone (Hotdog), a dark-skinned boy of African/Scottish descend with skinny flexible limbs like a monkey, _"My parents are locked away, doing a life stretch for murder; they were private robbers until one of their employers sold them out. The stinking authorities dumped me in here, to 'learn to be a decent sort' as the fatheads put it,"_ he snorted. Next, it was Fields' turn.

"_I am from Wales,"_ Ronald Fields said, _"I've never known my family; they abandoned me here shortly after I was born. Something about being unable to afford raising a child, or so Father Herbert tells me."_ Out of the three, Fields was the only one who rarely smiled and lacked Derek and Hotdog's sense of humour. Finally, it was Alan's turn to tell his story. Royce however, who had become even more sulky and bad-tempered since their father's death, looked disapprovingly at his brother having friendly interactions with their soon-to-be dorm mates.

"_I would advise you lot to think twice before befriending this git,"_ he snapped reproachfully, _"He will only bring you trouble; it's his fault our mother is dead."_ But the three boys, having heard Alan's story, glared back at Royce in disgust, _"Just who do you think you are to judge your brother like that, you sodding git? By the sound of it, it's your biased tongue that brings bad luck on the family more than anything else! 'Royce'? Isn't like the Rolls Royce that rich assholes drive, just to look cool? Yet, they break down every two miles…"_ Derek said, causing his other dorm mates, including Alan, to burst out laughing. Royce turned beetroot red.

_"Piss off! Fine, you can have my so-call brother for all I care, just as long as you keep him out of my hair!"_ He headed for the bunk furthest away from his dorm mates and started unpacking, without even looking at them. Hotdog pulled a face at Royce's turned back. Alan couldn't help but smile in satisfaction; it seemed he had finally found some true friends to look up to, since Royce's grudge had ruined all his chances of making any friends at his old school in Kensington, where his brother had been the most popular boy around. But now the shoe was on the other foot.

Unseen, Alan and Fiver watched, not daring utter a word to each other. Although back then, Alan had found it highly amusing to see his friends torment his brother for despising him, now realised that their childhood animosity had ruined every chance for Royce to ever reconciliate with his younger brother. Fiver too was staring at the memory with sadness; although he had had friends all his life and _his_ brother always looked up to him, his father had always rejected him. Now he could see how similar childhoods he and his human friend had shared, centuries apart. Then, the scene shifted.

It was several years later; Alan, Derek, Hotdog and Fields were sitting under a tree in the orphanage grounds, enjoying their summer break. A beautiful blond young girl sat with them; fifteen-year-old Josie Clayton, orphaned by the deaths of her parents in a car accident a few years ago, had befriended Alan and his friends since arriving at the orphanage. In the background, Royce sat in a shadowy corner, glaring reproachfully at them over the top of the book he was supposedly reading. He was now seventeen and would be leaving the orphanage in a few months, when he turned eighteen, to collect his share of his father's inheritance and start a new life.

"_Man, I am bored,"_ Hotdog groaned, _"Wish I had a prank up my sleeve; remember last Halloween, when I slipped emetics into the caretaker's tea? Oh boy, I heard that fat old git Mr Norris spent the whole night stuck in the john, burfing up his dinner! Or the time when Rolls Royce spent all morning scratching his groin, because I slipped itch powder in his underwear?"_ The Hard Boys all roared with laughter. Royce, having overheard them, picked up his books and walked away in a huff.

Ever since they had come to the orphanage, the trauma of his father's death, as well as his dislike for his younger brother and his friends, had made him pompous, arrogant, bad-tempered and an extremely closed person, completely devoted to himself and his studying. He had no friends, yet his arrogance and pride prevented him from ever trying to reconciliate with his brother. As a result, he was unpopular among his fellow dorm mates, who often found reasons to prank him. Sure enough, Derek caught sight of him and sneered,_ "Look at sulking Rolls Royce go; how that sodding git happens to be your brother Al, I'll never understand."_

"_No, as much as we are blood, you lot are more brothers to me, much more than that pompous sod will ever be,"_ fifteen-year-old Alan replied coldly. Ever since he had settled down in the orphanage, he had given up all hope of ever getting Royce to accept him, destroying any relationship they ever had and making them bitter enemies. Although at the time he had wanted nothing more to do with his brother, now he realised that he had literally thrown his only surviving relative away, without ever making any attempts to reconciliate. Then another scene materialise around him and Fiver.

Set around the same time as the previous one, it showed Alan and Father Herbert, who had become a mentor to him over the years, alone in the orphanage games hall. Alan had been caught by the caretaker with his Commando knife, which he had always carried about with him since his father's death, and taken before the head of the orphanage for carrying a concealed weapon. However, Father Herbert, being a former soldier and also understanding why it meant so much to Alan, instead of confiscating the knife, had offered to give him fencing lessons, to teach him to use his father's last gift properly. The priest had brought along a pair of foils and a target board, which they had set up in the games hall. Alan picked up his knife and positioning himself, took aim and tossed it towards the board, hitting it square in the centre dot.

"_Very good, very good,"_ Father Herbert said clapping, _"You're becoming quite a master at knife combat skills. Let's see how good you are with the sword, shall we?"_ he said, tossing Alan a foil and safety mask. They duelled for a while, until Alan finally managed to overpower his tutor, _"Well done, that's more like it," _the priest said, massaging his chest cavity, where Alan had struck him, _"You're the master now and I'm the pupil."_ As they paused for a break, Father Herbert turned to Alan.

_"Why does your brother hate you so much?"_ Alan, who was gulping down some water, almost choked as he looked up at his mentor in surprise, _"How did you…?"_

"_I have eyes,"_ Father Herbert said as-a-matter-of-fact, _"But I never realised his hatred runs this deep. I had him up in my office a few days ago, asking if he wanted to be granted visiting rights, so he could come and visit you here until you're also of age and free to leave. Heavens, he said all he wanted you out of his life forever and doesn't care what becomes of you! If you don't mind me asking, this doesn't have anything to do with some humiliating prank you and your friends played on him perhaps?"_

"_No Father, he just blames me for our mother's death," _Alan explained as he launched into his story of how his mother had died giving birth to him, earning Royce's hatred in return, followed by their father's death that had torn them apart completely. Father Herbert, although calm, looked very sad, _"Although I agree that your brother's hatred of you is absurd, I understand the trauma that hit him when your mother died. At his young age, the pain of such a loss would logically make him want to blame someone for the injustice fate has done him. You may still be a bit young to understand it, but deep down, Royce doesn't really hate you; it's just that you remind him of your mother's passing, which is why he doesn't want to know you. Although, unfortunately, there is nothing you can do to change his mind unless he does so on his own free will, you can be always be willing to forgive him, should he ever come round."_ Alan slowly looked up at Father Herbert, _"Thank you Father. I'll think about it, but I doubt that will ever happen. I think it might be best for both of us, if we simply parted ways."_

"_The Lord works in mysterious ways dear boy,"_ Father Herbert persisted, _"Maybe some day, Royce will return to you a different person and ask for your forgiveness… By the way, I've got something for you."_ He handed Alan a second hand copy of Watership Down, which would soon become Alan's favourite book, _"Aside from the Bible, I have found this book to be a very pleasant companion for a lonely person."_ Alan looked back at his mentor, _"Thank you Father. Goodnight."_

That night, Alan had felt at a total loss; on one hand, he actually wanted Royce to accept him, but on the other, the memories of all the torment and scorn he had endured by him were too hard to surpass. Sure enough, when Royce left the orphanage a few weeks later, Alan never saw his brother again, except during a meeting with a solicitor, for the reading of their father's will. When Alan came of age and left the orphanage in 1996, he returned to Drayton Court only to find the house deserted. Mrs Hanson had handed Alan a note saying:

_Alan,_

_I have liquidated my share of our inheritance and gone abroad to study and start a new life. As you once said, it is best for both of us, if we went separate ways. I have left you our old home so you can start a family with Josie, should you ever decide to marry. As much as I hate to say this, the pain from the loss of Mum is too strong to accept you into my life. Forgive me little brother and goodbye._

_Royce _

Although disappointed by Royce's decision to walk out of his life forever, Alan had decided it was best this way; if Royce would be happy without him, then it was his choice and they both had to move on. Although at the time he had indeed considered the possibility of marrying Josie someday, he still wanted to complete his studies, to pursue his ambition of becoming an ecologist like his father.

Using his share of his father's money, he had applied for a position at Aberdeen University in Scotland. Derek and Fields, who had also decided to pursue university studies, in engineering and law respectively (Hotdog had decided to follow in his parents' footsteps and become a smuggler) and with Alan's financial support, had also applied and were accepted. Josie, who had come into her own inheritance left by her parents, had applied for a degree in animal medicine but at a different university in Southampton, although she had promised to stay in touch with Alan. Then the scene shifted to another set a couple of years later, during Alan's university years in Aberdeen.

Alan, now 20, was standing on the fighting arena in the university's game hall, facing his opponent, a burly man as large as a 400lbs gorilla. Both men, wearing boxing gloves and drenched in sweat, bruises and blood, were near exhaustion as they fought their match. Alan sunk to the floor on the edge of the arena, wiping the sweat and blood from his face. Derek and Fields approached him with a pint of water, which Alan half gulped down, half poured over his head to cool off, _"Deke, time?"_

"_You've got 15 seconds."_ Alan shook his head, _"No goddamn it, the real time! Bloody hell, we're late for our afternoon lecture again. All right, this is the final round; big man is going down! Double the wager!"_

"_What? That ape is beating you to a pulp Al! Soon, you'll need another tooth filling…"_ But Alan remained stubborn, _"I said double it, or I quit!"_ Standing up with fresh determination, he turned to face his opponent, _"Come on big boy! Show us what you've got!"_ The big man struck, but Alan ducked, aiming the most powerful blow he could muster, straight in his opponent's jaw, who finally sunk to the ground, out cold. Cheers and applause broke out as Alan stood, bloodied and sweaty, but victorious. Derek and Fields collected their winnings, as Alan hastily put on his clothes over his sweaty boxing outfit, _"Drinks are on me tonight chaps! Come on, we can still make it to that lecture."_

Ever since starting university, Alan had signed up for many activities, including boxing, fencing, archery, shooting, first aid, riding and diving. His achievements had earned him further popularity and respect among his friends, with the exception of Fields, who, in contrast to Derek, seemed rather jealous of Alan's accomplishments, as it made him feel inferior. Although Alan and the others had always treated him as a friend and never considered him inferior in any way, the sight of his friends earning more popularity than him was highly frustrating and, unnoticed at the time by Alan or Derek, had started taking its toll on their friendship, which reached breaking point only a few months later…

Alan was walking through a deserted park at night as if in a trance, clutching a half empty whiskey bottle, Derek trying to keep up with him. It was Christmas Eve 1998, supposedly a time of happiness and celebration, but not for Alan. Ever since entering university, he had regularly kept in touch with Josie and they continued to see each other over the holidays. That was until a month ago, when Josie had suddenly and inexplicably stopped responding. His letters had all been returned undelivered and his calls had gone unanswered. The answer had finally hit him tonight, when he had received a short reply from Josie, saying that she wouldn't be able to have Christmas with him at Drayton Court. Derek walked alongside him, trying to snap him out of his trance, "_Al, what the devil has gotten into you?"_

"_It's Josie…"_ Alan muttered, staring vacantly ahead, _"Josie…she has dumped me."_ Derek was stunned for a moment, before he grabbed Alan in a bone-crushing hug, _"Welcome to the club mate! Everybody thinks their sweethearts are their soul mates until it happens, eh? I've had thirteen girlfriends that have sworn they love me to death and then they just walk out the door. Or was it fourteen…?"_ Alan, furious at Derek's humour, grabbed his friend by the shirt collar and slammed him against a nearby lamppost.

_"Stop trying to humour me goddamn it!"_ Derek's expression turned serious, _"Face it Alan; you're both apart half the time. Did you really expect her to wait for you forever? It was only a matter of time."_ Alan let go and stared at the ground in silent realisation of the harsh truth, that Josie had moved on. Suddenly, a scream from nearby caught them off-guard.

_"No, please don't!"_ Then followed the shouts of swearing and slapping. They turned and saw Fields burst out of the bushes looking terrified. Alan and Derek run up to him, _"What the hell's up mate?"_ Fields took a second to catch his breath before answering in a panicked voice, _"It's Mary! She is in trouble!"_

Mary Millard was a beautiful redhead whom Fields had a crush on and had been desperately trying to date for months but had always been swayed by her over-protective brother Miles. Tonight, he had finally gotten his wish and managed to persuade Mary to come on a date with him. But now, judging by the horrified expression on Fields' face, something bad had happened.

Running through the trees from where Fields had come, Alan came to an empty bandstand in the centre of the park. Standing atop it was Mary with two nasty-looking thugs surrounding her. While one particularly burly one held her arms behind her back with one hand and with the other keeping her mouth shut, his partner confiscated her purse and jewellery, while amusing himself by running his hands over any unsuitable places he could reach. Furious, Alan drew his knife and fell upon the muggers.

Giving the first thief a rabbit punch, he sent him to the ground out cold. The second, furious at seeing his partner attacked, threw the girl aside and pulled out a flip knife, _"You'll pay for that, boy!"_ However, being accustomed to attacking unarmed opponents who had no idea about real fighting, it came as quite a shock to him when Alan easily disarmed him and pointed both knives in this face, _"Get lost and pray we never meet again; not even your mother will want you after I am through with you next time!"_ Getting the message, both muggers took to their heels and disappeared into the night.

Alan turned to tend to the trembling girl and returned her belongings,_ "You all right?"_ The gild, panting from shock, holding a handkerchief Alan had given her over her bruised cheek, slowly nodded, _"Yes, I think so. Thank you…Sorry, what's your name?"_

"_Alan. Alan Johnson,"_ Alan said, shaking hands with her. She nodded in recognition, _"Alan Johnson…Ron's friend, right?"_ Alan nodded back, his voice stuck in his throat; he couldn't help but notice that she was extremely pretty… At that moment, Derek and Fields appeared, accompanied by a policeman they had summoned for help. Fields' face fell as he tried winking at Mary, who glared back at him, unimpressed by him running like a coward for help, while those muggers frisked her.

Indeed, as a result of the incident, a few weeks later, after having put Josie behind him, Alan was dating her and their relationship soon blossomed into love. But the one who was furious at Alan's newfound relationship was Fields; his crush on Mary had been so great and the fact that her new relationship with Alan meant the end of any chance of winning her heart again, was a great stab to his pride. Derek and Hotdog had tried to reason out with him but Fields had refused to listen, claiming that any friends of the 'man he wish he had never met', were just as much enemies to him as Alan was. Feeling betrayed and accusing Alan of being 'the same bastard his parents had been', Fields soon disappeared out of their lives forever.

Despite the hurt and guilt of Fields abandoning his friendship, Alan had continued dating Mary and upon their graduation in 2002, they had decided to marry. And so it was on the 15th September 2003, when Alan Johnson, then 25, became a first-time husband and Derek was made best man. The happy couple had settled down together in Drayton Court. After completing his PhD in Environmental Biology, Alan had applied for a teaching position at the Royal University of London, along with Derek who had a PhD in Mechanical Engineering. The following few years were the happiest of Alan's life; for the first time since childhood, it seemed that his life was finally whole again.

The scene shifted to several years later. Alan, now _Dr_ Johnson Associate Professor at the university, as well as a father (Lucy Annette Johnson had been born August 10th 2004), was sitting in a laboratory. He and his colleague Dr Cole Drake, a geneticist and molecular biologist working for the same department just like Alan, were going over some biological blueprints of an experiment they had been working on, _"So you see, this is a chart of extinct or endangered species and their links to their surviving cousins. Now, this is a chart with the statistics with the numbers of species becoming endangered or extinct per year. As you've also pointed out yourself in your research, that rate is escalating; it is estimated that by the year 2100, the balance on our biosphere will collapse, resulting in a mass and irreversible extinction of many species that form the critical links in the production of our planet's food supply…"_

"_I already know all that Cole!"_ Alan said, getting a bit irritated at been lectured on things he himself had studied and perfected for years, _"The data all shows that unless humanity's overpopulation decreases, to stop polluting and overexploiting the planet's resources, within a century or so from now, the Earth will no longer be able to sustain us and we will all fall victim to our own overpopulation."_

"_Exactly; and unfortunately, regardless of what others say, there is little we can do, unless we are willing to wipe out half our population. But…"_ Dr Drake continued patiently, _"What if we could create a new ecosystem, to replace the original one, should it die out? One, which could be shaped to supply the human race with all its needs, without the need for stripping it bare?"_ Alan looked confused.

_"How exactly could that be done? We know that nature always settles in a new balance with the remaining species of the old ecosystem forming new links between themselves in the food web; those that can't adjust, inevitably die out. The procedure to create a balanced ecosystem is theoretically possible, by carefully selecting certain key species and placing them in an isolated environment, and eliminating the rest, but it still doesn't remove humans out of the equation, given that our kind has no natural enemies to balance our rapidly growing numbers. With our science and technology, disease is almost entirely eradicated and the only common natural enemy we have left is death from old age."_

"_Right again,"_ Dr Drake said, impressed by Alan's instant grasping of his idea,_ "But what if the key species you mentioned could be genetically enhanced, altering the environment in a way that could guarantee mankind an inexhaustible food supply? What if we could perfect our science enough to genetically create and introduce a number of selective, excessively healthy species of plants and animals to the biosphere, so that the Earth could accommodate our growing overpopulation?"_

"_But that would inevitably lead to even worse overpopulation, speeding up the disintegration of our biosphere,"_ Alan said, shaking his head, _"Without some natural predator or competitor to balance our numbers, such a plan would only backfire in our face. Besides, how do you propose such a modification be made to the Earth's ecosystem?"_ But Dr Drake shook his head.

_"That is a very good point. Unfortunately, this scenario could only work if the original biosphere were to crumble in the event of a mass extinction event, for example. We currently have the science of preserving species in cryostorage for just such an occasion, but that would only revive the world as we know it. However, if we could find - or maybe create - that competitor I speak of, it could work. That's why I would like to enrol you on this project,"_ Drake said, _"You are the finest researcher on ecosystems; you've written the book on food webs and the balance between ecological links. If anyone can find a suitable species for the ecosystem I've envisioned, it's you."_ Alan considered for a moment. Although he doubted it would ever work, the faculty of the university was financing Drake's research and his enrolment would mean a good bonus to his salary.

_"Okay, I accept. However, I should caution you that this is a project nearly impossible to accomplish. For starters, it's unlikely that we'll actually be able to ever put it to the test…"_ Despite his doubts, Alan had stayed true to his word and continued working with Drake on the project to reconstruct the Earth's environment in the event of a doomsday. Little had they known at the time, that this project, which was only expected to exist as theory alone, would someday form the building blocks of the future world Alan would witness. Then, the scene ended and a new one materialised.

Alan, now 31, was sitting at his dinner table, surrounded by his family, Derek and Hotdog; it was a yearly dinner, when Alan and his friends would meet to celebrate the anniversary of their friendship together. A dinner fit for royalty lay on the table before them, one of Mary's many cooking masterpieces. Alan poured himself some wine and raised his glass, _"I'd like to propose a toast; the 20__th__ anniversary of the Hard Boys!"_ Despite the absence of Fields, whom the Hard Boys had by then come to regard as no longer a member of their ring of friendship, Alan regarded his life as perfect.

As he walked into the master bedroom to change his shirt, which had a sauce stain on it, he heard a soft noise behind him; he smiled, realising Lucy, then five years old, was trying to sneak up on him to prank him. He played oblivious, until he felt Lucy standing right behind him, about to lower a fake spider on the end of a fishing rod, right in front of his eyes. Suddenly he spun round and snatched up his daughter; he tossed her in the air and then caught her by her ankles before she could hit the floor, _"Thought you'd sneak up on me, you little monster?"_ he asked playfully as he started tickling her feet, causing her to squirm with laughter. Hearing her squeals, Derek and Hotdog appeared in the doorway.

"_Dinner is getting cold,"_ Derek said amused, grinning at his goddaughter who pulled a face at him, while still dangling upside-down. Alan tossed her at Derek, and they all took turns dangling and tickling her, to her endless enjoyment. Hotdog grinned as he took his turn and tickled Lucy's soles with his long hair locks, while the others held her suspended by her ankles, _"When will we teach this little rascal the really important stuff? Like how to belch or pick pockets?"_ The Hard Boys and Lucy roared with laughter but Mary's shouts interrupted their fun, _"YOU MOST CERTAINLY WILL NOT BE TEACHING MY DAUGHTER TO BELCH, OR I'LL GRILL ALL THREE OF YOU INTO HOTDOGS!"_ Catching sight of them, she run for her camera and snapped a shot of them with her husband and Derek holding her laughing daughter upside-down between them like a fish catch. Alan smiled, thinking his life as perfect. Unfortunately, that evening would mark the beginning of his downfall.

After dinner, the family had gathered in front of the television to enjoy a movie, when an urgent news announcement interrupted their pleasant evening, _"China threatens with nuclear holocaust! Several hours ago, a ballistic missile struck Hawaii, unleashing a nuclear catastrophe and annihilating the American fleet at Pearl Harbour, in an ironic repetition of history. Shortly thereafter, the Chinese government, having declared a military regime, claimed responsibility for the attack and confirms that China has become a nuclear power, along with Russia and Japan, as its primary allies. Terms have been sent to the United States' government as well as all its European allies, requesting either an alliance to form a Communist empire, or war. The Prime Minister of the United Kingdom has henceforth declared a state of war. Starting at midnight tonight until further notice, martial law has been declared; all healthy male citizens between 20 and 50 years of age are ordered to report to the recruiting office in their district, where they will await further instructions. The Prime Minister regretfully confirms that our country is as of this moment at war and the future uncertain." _

That very evening, Alan, Derek and Hotdog had packed their bags and reported to the recruiting office; Alan went into training to become a Marine, Hotdog as a fighter pilot and Derek as a weapons engineer assigned on the home front. After several months of hasty and intense training, Alan, Derek and Hotdog, took up their duties.

Derek, although directly involved in the war effort through his work, never saw any action, instead putting all his efforts into perfecting weaponry for the Armed Forces within the safety of military laboratories and test sights. It was around that time that he designed the guidance system, which was later stolen and installed in Project Black Inferno. Hotdog was assigned air patrolling missions over the Channel, until his plane was shot down by an enemy aircraft and was transferred to a bomb disposal squad for the remainder of the war, having been declared unfit to fly following the loss of his left eye.

Starting out as a drafted civilian, Alan had soon found a new call in the army; despite only rudimentary training, he had quickly impressed his commanding officer with his skills and so, by the end of the first year into the war, he was transferred to the infiltration forces in hostile territory, much to Mary's horror. Sure enough, during a paratrooper infiltration mission to aid some exiled Chinese rebels, bent on overthrowing the regime in their homeland, Alan's squadron had run foul of a Chinese regiment and taken prisoner. The scene then shifted to another very depressing one, set during his captivity in a Ninxa Province prison camp.

Alan, unshaven, dirty and bruised, huddled close with his fellow inmates, trying to make themselves comfortable on the straw-covered floor of the cage, which served as their sleeping quarters. His fellow prisoners consisted of some twenty other men of different nationalities, including many captured Chinese rebels that opposed the regime. A Chinese boy who had befriended Alan when he first arrived approached Alan, _"Master Alan, the radio is finished."_ Alan crawled over to another man, who was busy trying to construct a radio from some stolen electronic components, so they could try and hear some news from the outside world and hopefully, plan an escape.

Unfortunately, as they powered up the device, they had forgotten to turn down the volume, alerting the guards. To save their lives, the Chinese inmate had grabbed the radio, tricking the guards into believing he had smuggled it in. The boy, Kyto was decapitated the next day as a warning to the other inmates. Alan, who had taken this young rebel under his care during his captivity and had promised him a new life in England, had blamed himself for the boy's death and vowed revenge.

Ironically, his vow to avenge Kyto's death only brought about another tragedy when, a few weeks later, a major revolt against the regime broke out in Beijing, giving the Western Allies a chance for invasion; storm troopers had invaded China and freed all surviving prisoners. During the siege of the camp, Alan was attacked by, what he had mistaken for, a hooded dwarf guerrilla; it was only after he had shot his opponent dead, causing the hood to fall off, revealing a child soldier no older than fourteen, that he realised his mistake. The guilt of the killing, even though it had been self-defence, had haunted Alan for many years to come, until the Battle of Efrafa years later, when he had finally found redemption, by sparing young Moss' life.

The war had ended shortly thereafter, with the Western Allies victorious, and Alan had returned home, where he read the names of his brother and Fields on the list of war fatalities, confirming that they had both been killed in action (Royce had perished at sea when his submarine had been sunk and Fields had died with the other paratroopers in China), adding further guilt on his conscience. After refusing a military promotion for his efforts and retiring from the Marines, he had returned to civilian life, intent on forgetting all the painful memories of the war. Unfortunately, little had he known then that things had only just started to go downhill for him…

The scene shifted back in London; a thin, red-haired man sat in a shadowy corner of a pub in Hammersmith, writing out a letter. In contrast to the other people dancing, drinking, and having a good time, Miles Millard, a database administrator at the Ministry of Defence, was using the crowd as cover, as he carefully wrote two letters; one to Dr Drake and the other to his sister. Clutched in his hand was the disk with a copy of the accounting format exposing Red Hand's foreign investments. Miles looked pale and clammy, ignoring the cheerful atmosphere, as he focused on his work. Finished with the letters, he placed them and the disk in labelled envelopes, sealed them, and hurried out the door.

Hurrying to a nearby letterbox, he tossed both letters in before running from the scene, panting and glancing around him every few seconds as if believing he was being followed. As he paused for a moment to catch his breath, he suddenly staggered, as if heavily intoxicated, before collapsing on the sidewalk. Not ten seconds later, three masked figures stepped out of the shadows and hurried towards him. They picked him up and bodily carried him into a nearby alleyway, away from CCTV surveillance and started searching him; one confiscated his keys, another his wallet, and a third, his cell phone. One of the assailants read his name and address on his driver's licence, _"That's him all right; good work Sven," _said the voice of Robbins under the mask. His associates who had finished frisking Miles, stood up, _"Nothing; the disk is not on him. Let's search his home instead."_

"_So what do we do with him?"_ asked the nervous voice of Tom Shelton, under another hood. Robbins chuckled evilly, _"Samir was ever so kind as to lend me all the right equipment to 'clean up' any loose ends like this,"_ he said, taking out a syringe of Agent Neuron. After injecting Miles with the lethal drug and putting his keys and wallet back where they had found them, as not to leave any evidence (they kept his cell phone to search his call records and address book), the three partners fled from the scene.

Miles eventually regained consciousness and returned home, dazed and confused, where he was found dead the following day, apparently from a heart attack. Being a chronic alcoholic, as well as a rumoured drug addict, reinforced the conclusion and his death had been a simple accident, and was soon forgotten by the authorities. The scene then shifted to Alan's apartment in Drayton Court, the day after the funeral a week later.

Mary, dressed in black and her eyes red with sorrow from her brother's death, was up early, making breakfast, in a desperate effort to take her mind off her grief. Since Miles had died, she had forbidden Alan to help her with anything and focused on all the housework herself. As she walked over to the door to pick up the morning post, she found Miles' letter. Stunned, she tore it open and read the letter explaining her brother's discovery and the truth behind his strange death. Another envelope with her name on it contained the note from Dr Drake, requesting to meet him in secret with the disc that would reveal Miles' discovery to the authorities. Fearing for her family's safety, she had rushed to hide them someplace safe, without breathing a word to her husband.

A few weeks later, Alan, believing Mary to still be distraught from her brother's death (she was in fact scared from the prospect of Red Hand finding out she knew about the disk), had arranged the excursion to Watership Down, on Drake's 'suggestion', hoping to help her feel better. Little had he known that Drake was in fact being blackmailed by his father, to make his family walk straight into a death trap!

The scene shifted to the fateful day in 2011; Nuthanger Farm materialised around the two Life Memory Travellers. Alan felt his insides curl up in anticipation as he recognised the memory of his wife's murder. However, this time he was watching it from right beside the jeep; he could see his wife, having heard the commotion at the farmhouse, desperately trying to start up the jeep and go get help, Lucy in the back. Suddenly, the hooded figure of Robbins sprang from the bushes and was upon them. Taking a can of incapacitating spray from his pocket, he sprayed Lucy in the face, instantly knocking her unconscious. Mary trembled with fear, as the murderer rounded on her, _"Wh…what do you want?"_

"_Revenge for the life your pitiful husband stole from me,"_ replied Robbins from under his hood, drawing a revolver and aiming it between Mary's eyes who whimpered in fear, _"W…who are you?"_ At this, Robbins, to Alan's surprise, seemed to tremble with rage at the question, almost as if it offended him for some reason.

_"You'll have an eternity in hell to figure that one out, you traitorous bitch! Your daughter is mine now!"_ Without another word, he pulled the trigger, blasting Mary's head into smithereens. Then, hearing Alan and Derek approaching, he pulled the corpse out of the jeep and onto the footpath along with Lucy's shoes, some strands of her hair and her clothes, improvising a decoy murder scene. Then, pulling a grenade from his pocket, he tossed it beside the body and the bundle of clothes, blasting everything into smithereens, covering up all evidence of the kidnapping, and making it seem like_ two_ people had died there rather than just one.

The first stage for his game complete, Robbins started up the jeep and was gone at breakneck speed, laughing maniacally at his success, all the while glancing at the unconscious girl on the floor of the vehicle behind him. After abandoning Alan's jeep on the edge of the woods, he made his way home with Lucy. After bribing the coroner who identified Mary's remains to forge a second certificate for Lucy, and instructing him to add a quantity of sawdust in the cremation of the remains, so no one would notice the curiously lesser amount of ashes in the burial urns, he hid the girl from the outside world. Lucy was believed dead just like her mother, leaving her father to endure depression and misery. It was not until over a year later, when Santon's men stormed the property and found her.

Alan and Fiver stood transfixed at what they had just seen; Alan in particular, was frozen in shock, not from witnessing his wife's violent death all over again, but from everything he had just heard Robbins say. Instead of threatening Mary for the disc and killing her for not having it, as he had claimed, his nemesis had in fact been after _revenge_ for something Alan had supposedly done to him. But Robbins had been a complete stranger to him then…or not? Wandering just what he had gotten himself into, he and Fiver continued on their Journey.

Author's note: Sorry I cut the Life Memory Journey in half, but it was too big to fit into one chapter. For those who are confused, in the memories that Alan wasn't present, remember the Life Memory Journey works like the dream of the past, present and future from _Christmas Carol_. Enjoy and please review!


	56. Chapter 56 Life Memory Journey Part2

Alan and Fiver found themselves in the all-too-familiar drawing room of Buxton Hall; Robbins sat in a leather armchair with his old, bushy-bearded boss, seated in one opposite him. Robbins looked extremely content in the legendary terrorist's presence, almost like father and son. Sure enough, the cold-hearted Russian filled two glasses with wine and passed one to his lieutenant, who smiled back, _"Lafitte Rothschild 1945? Wow, I didn't know there was any of that stuff left."_

"_And only reserved for a loyal and resourceful deputy like you; your devotion to me does you credit boy,"_ Sergey said, taking a sip, _"I still remember when you first joined my ranks over ten years ago, when you were a mere scrawny helpless kid; yet your heart to become someone important was true. You've grown into the finest lieutenant I ever had the honour of admitting into my faction."_

_"Only thanks to you Sergey,"_ Robbins replied with a sonly affection, _"It is only thanks to you that I have finally built myself the life I have always wanted. 'Life does not pity the weak; either be merciless or be mercilessly suppressed,' as you always put it. Look at poor Johnson now; he's been reduced to a wasted drunk, wasting away in misery, while I've got everything I ever wanted and more."_

_"Which brings us back to the reason I summoned you here tonight,"_ Sergey said sternly, interrupting Robbins' gloating of Alan's suffering, _"The cores are due to be smuggled into England sometime within the next few days; all I need is a safe hideout for them until this business is sorted out. Now, have you found any new leads on Mr Millard's missing disk?"_ Robbins shook his head.

_"We've had Johnson and anyone else on Millard's phone book under constant surveillance for nearly a year now; we have concluded that they haven't the faintest awareness of the missing disk's existence, let alone its whereabouts. It looks like Millard took his discovery to the grave with him; wherever it is, it's most likely lost forever. The only loose ends left are Johnson and Shaw and they suspect nothing…"_

_"Then, I suggest you start making plans on how to eliminate those 'loose ends' and quickly!"_ Sergey said sternly, _"And you better make sure it doesn't leave any further loose ends or I just might have to… throw you out of my favour, understood?"_ he said, a hint of warning in his voice. Robbins nodded in understanding, _"Yes sir. Crystal." _Sergey smiled, _"Good. So, name what you need for the job." _Robbins considered for a moment, before summoning Shelton and Shelton, whose help he would need for the job. After they were all assembled, Robbins outlined to them his plan to lure Alan and Derek into a trap from which they could not possibly escape: a hijacked aircraft.

"_Johnson and Shaw will join me on a flight over New Forest; only we will never get there. After we are airborne, I will forcefully take control of the aircraft and redirect us to an alternate abandoned airstrip. You will be waiting there with several armed men to pick us up. We will capture Johnson and Shaw, execute them and then blow up the aircraft with the bodies, to make it look like an accident. Given the rumours that circulate around Johnson already, since many believe him to be the killer of his wife and daughter, it shouldn't be so difficult to cover up."_ While his men debated over the plan, Robbins smiled devilishly, _"Soon, my revenge will be complete!"_ With that, the scene ended.

Alan and Fiver found themselves moving through the bright heavenly light again, as a new scene materialised around them. Once again, they were back in Alan's apartment; only this time, it wasn't Alan or his family around. Instead, the two Life Memory Travellers saw Shertok, Shelton and Samir, who had broken inside Alan's deserted home after their intended victim had mysteriously disappeared, arousing their suspicions, hoping to blindly recover Miles' disk. Robbins was not surprisingly no longer present, also having vanished into the future.

Alan, invisible, watched in anger, as the wretched mercenaries proceeded to tear his family home apart; without bothering to keep the noise down, probably convinced that the building was deserted, they opened up all drawers and cupboards, helping themselves to any valuables they could find, in addition to any incriminating data. A while later, after having recovered Mile's letter, Drake's note to Mary, Robbins' contract to Alan, all the data drives from Alan's computer, as well as Mary's jewellery, the china, silverware and any other valuables they could find, they declared their clean-up complete.

"_It's not here,"_ Sven concluded, _"And with Shaw and Millard's homes also searched, there is nowhere else left to look…"_ But suddenly a shrill female voice interrupted them, _"WHAT IN GOODNESS' NAME DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"_ Mrs Hanson bellowed, breezing in with a frying pan in one hand and a broom in the other, _"GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE THIS INSTANT OR I'LL CALL THE POLICE!"_ she shouted, hitting Samir across the face with the frying pan and Tom over the head with the broom. But Sven, been a far better trained fighter that his two comrades, dodged the old woman's blows and slapped her hard across the face, knocking her unconscious, _"Bitch!"_

The other two men gathered around Alan's fallen housekeeper, looking ready to kill; Samir had a bleeding nose and Shelton had a lump growing out of the top of his head, _"What shall we do with her boss? Shall I chop her head off right here?"_ Samir growled, raising a meat cleaver from Alan's kitchen. But Sven shook his head, _"No wait, she might know where Johnson and Shaw have gone. Let's take her downstairs to question her in privacy. Samir, see if you can find anything useful we can use as…persuasion."_ Sven and Shelton lifted up Mrs Hanson and carried her downstairs to her basement apartment, _"Damn, the old hag weighs a ton!"_ Shelton moaned all the way.

Alan and Fiver followed them downstairs; the three criminals walked into the housekeeper's home and shut the door behind them. Then followed a series of muttering and muffled screaming, which was Sven and his men interrogating Mrs Hanson under torture. Some time later, the three men emerged, drenched in bloodstains, indicating that Mrs Hanson had been butchered. Just before departing, Sven went and planted the kitchen knife Samir had used for the killing back in Alan's apartment, before making a hasty call on his cell phone,_ "There's been a murder at 31 Drayton Court, Drayton Gardens. Send the police."_ He turned to his associates, _"The old bat might not have told us what we wanted to know but it doesn't matter; if Johnson ever comes back, the police will deliver him straight into our waiting hands. If he thinks he's outsmarted us, he is in for a big surprise!"_

Sure enough, a few minutes later the police had arrived and found Mrs Hanson's dissected corpse with the murder weapon bearing Alan's fingerprints upstairs, where Sven had planted it. The evidence had led them to conclude that Alan's disappearance had been related to the murder, as well as the disappearances of the other people on his flight, and had issued an arrest warrant for him. It was not until a week later when Alan returned, seemingly out of the blue, and proved his innocence by taking down the Red Hand Brotherhood single-handedly before vanishing again like a ghost. Then the scene ended and Alan and Fiver pressed on.

Hotdog and several of his smuggler associates stood facing Shelton in his secret pawnshop, the loot from Alan's apartment strewn all over the pool table in the bar. Shelton was selling the stolen goods in a desperate attempt to pay off his debts, fearful that Sergey wouldn't recover to pay him. However, he didn't realise that Hotdog was Alan and Derek's closest friend and thus, could recognise the silverware. Although careful to hide the expression of fury on his face, Alan's old friend was fighting the urge to strike Shelton over the head with his baseball bat. His hands trembling with cold fury, which luckily Shelton hadn't noticed, Hotdog took out a briefcase of cash and counted the money with which he would 'buy' the loot from his client, _"£2,500."_

"_Make it £3,000 and we have a deal,"_ Shelton said snidely. Groaning, Hotdog handed him the bundle of banknotes, which Shelton kissed and tucked in his back pocket. Unfortunately, he didn't notice Hotdog who, with an evil grin, signalled to one of his men to go and stand by the door. As Shelton walked out, he nicked the money back; Shelton, who was too preoccupied with thoughts that his debts would soon be history, hadn't noticed anything. Only after he had returned home did he realise the money was gone and that his debts remained unpaid.

"_Good work Izzy,"_ Hotdog said as he took back the money and packed it away. _"Now, help me move this lot upstairs; I am taking personal charge of this stuff."_ Ignoring his assistant's insistence that the stuff was worth selling, Hotdog had Alan's valuables moved into his flat for safekeeping, so they wouldn't be found and stolen by other light-fingered vandals. Alan had a second to feel a slight twinge of shame for wrongly accusing Hotdog of robbing him earlier, before the memory ended and the next one materialised around him and Fiver.

They were in Drake's cottage in Sydmonton, a few months after Alan and his friends had left to return to the future; a small group of people, all carefully selected by Drake and Santon for the League of the New World, were seated before Dr Drake, who had set up a projector for the meeting. The visitors were muttering at each other in confusion, while Santon remained standing by the projector, arms crossed like a bodyguard. Drake started his speech.

"_Good evening and thank you all for coming. As you probably know from your invitations, we are gathered here tonight to discuss the mystery surrounding the story of Dr Alan Johnson. As you probably already know from the newspapers, he was killed in the destruction of Project Black Inferno, when the headquarters of the Red Hand Brotherhood was taken down many months ago. However, as I am about to reveal, what was made public about Dr Johnson is false; I trust you all understand the importance of secrecy?"_ After all the spectators had sworn an oath of secrecy, Drake darkened the room and started his presentation; snapshots from the visual log Alan had left Santon, showing he upcoming future, appeared on the screen. Total silence filled the room as the story of the future-yet-to-come unfolded before their eyes.

The reaction was one of complete confusion, shock and disbelief. No sooner was the presentation over than the spectators started firing question after question so quickly, that Drake couldn't even make out any meaning, _"Where did you get all this information? Who do you think you're kidding? Are we all going to die? Are you saying that the story of Watership Down is real?"_ It wasn't until Santon stood up on a chair and bellowed in a loud voice,_ "QUIET! One question at a time, please."_ When everyone had quietened down a bit, each person took his turn.

"_How far away are these threatening bodies?"_ asked a young man, who was a student of astronomy at Drake's university and a close friend of Drake's son David.

"_My son has made a few rough calculations using all the scraps of information we have; we estimate about 40 billion miles. However…"_ But another man interrupted before Drake could continue, _"Billion? Well, in that case non of what you say will happen for another hundred years or so."_

"_I am afraid you are much mistaken,"_ Dr Drake replied calmly, _"I am no astronomer but I know that heavenly bodies can travel hundreds of times faster than the speed of sound and could cover that distance in less than fourteen years. The planet Apocalypse will pass close enough to influence the tides and tectonic plates; giant tidal waves and earthquakes with wreck havoc worldwide. If the world's governments make all necessary preparations, possibly half the earth's population may survive the passing."_

"_Then we'll make every possible effort,"_ said another man who was a wealthy businessman with an intriguing interest for science, who often funded Drake's private research on genetics, _"Whatever help my factories can give, we'll give gladly."_ But Drake shook his head sadly, _"It would be useless; soon after, Apocalypse's satellite Pandora, will come into direct collision with the Earth, unleashing a extinction level event. Our world will end."_ The audience all looked as if they were about to be sick until someone broke the silence,_ "And what does this doomsday prediction have to do with Watership Down being real?"_

"_I am coming to that; after the catastrophe will wipe out our old world, the planet will be able to flourish all over again, once the atmosphere has cleared. However, according to Dr Johnson, who saw the world seven centuries from now and discovered all the secrets of the history-yet-to-come, at some point we will forced to create a new species of animals to replace our old ecosystem: Project Utopia, which Johnson and I had been working on together for some time is the blueprint of bringing the world of that famous tale to life."_

"_Are you suggesting that we'll someday bring the world of Watership Down to life through your experiments?"_ asked another spectator, a girl who was a local librarian as well as a big fan of the story. Drake nodded, _"I know you are all Adamsians _(people who believe the works of Richard Adams to be actual fact or see them in high regard)_, yet now when someone tells you your fantasies will be part of our future, you express doubts. Well, ladies and gentlemen, by a complete stroke of luck, I also have some further incontestable proof. Behold!" _Drake removed a napkin from over a glass jar that stood on the table beside him; the embryo from the hawk's egg found in Robbins' bag, lay preserved in methyl alcohol. Instant murmur broke out, as they all crowded around to get a better look at it.

Using a pair of tweezers, Drake picked up the unborn hawk from the jar and held it up for everyone to see properly, _"Behold a specimen of the future world!"_ he said, putting the hawk back in its jar._ "And for those who still have doubts,"_ he continued, taking out a glass slide containing a blood sample from a stain left behind on a bandage recovered from Josie's infirmary, from when she had treated the rabbits; turning back to the projector, he brought up a slide of a karyotyping chart of the sample; more gasps sounded as another of the spectators, a biologist, read the chart, _"People, either my PhDs aren't worth a biscuit or I have lost my mind; if my readings are correct, that is some sort of splice between human and rabbit genes only with some missing sequence caps in the DNA strand…"_

"_Precisely,"_ Drake relied, _"Well done Kenyon!"_ There was a moment's silence before the truth sunk in for everyone present; Drake had the blueprints to actually bring a work of fiction to life. The scientist turned back to his guests.

_"With these samples and whatever other scraps of information we have, I am confident we can recreate the damaged strand and hopefully, duplicate the creatures that Dr Johnson saw, to replace our doomed world. As you probably realise however, we'll have to work in absolute secrecy, which you will all be expected to keep. Dr Johnson gave me specific instructions and I have all the money we will need for the project. Are you with me?"_

There were a few minutes of great tension, as the people seated before Drake and Santon, struggled to decide if they dealing with reality or the demented fantasies of a madman. Finally, all of Drake's carefully selected trustees swore an oath of allegiance and absolute secrecy to the project; the League of the New World had just been born. Just as the scientist opened a bottle of champagne to propose a toast, the scene faded away and Alan and Fiver moved on to the next memory.

A new scene, set over 12 years after the first meeting of the League of the New World, materialised around the two Life Memory Travellers: Alan recognised Watership Down, still the same peaceful place…but no, something had changed. Glancing at the flat plain on the top of the Down, they saw a massive construction site; the HAB was being built in the bowels of the Down, in preparation for the upcoming catastrophe. Staring inside a foreman's shack, Alan saw a strange calendar pinned to the notice board; instead of displaying the date, the calendar was split into two countdowns: 709 DAYS TO APOCALYPSE/ 1279 DAYS TO PANDORA.

Staring through the crowds of people running to and fro, he spotted Drake, now in his mid-fifties, along with his family and Santon, also staring at the construction site. Drake and Santon, Alan noted, were slowly starting to turn grey with age, indicating the passage of time. Alan and Fiver approached them (or rather walked through the many people that couldn't see, hear of feel them), from where they could hear them talk, _"Some sight, huh? I much preferred Watership Down as it looked like two years ago; the high lonely hills, where the wind carries every whisper,"_ quoted Simmone Drake, staring in dismay at the construction site.

"_It will look exactly the same someday,"_ her husband reassured her, _"The HAB is designed to be completely invisible; it will have no external structures other than the entrance, or so the engineers tell me. Possibly in a hundred years or so, when it will be a museum site, the first question visitors will ask will be, 'where is it?' Besides, why do you think they chose this site? Because Watership Down is an icon of sanctuary for us Brits,"_ he said, watching all the supply trucks lining up on the road at the foot of the Down, to deliver their cargo: Food, medical supplies, seedlings, livestock, all the national art and treasures, a library, a nuclear reactor to power the facility, and all the other necessary tools, materials and machinery for the construction.

"_Think we'll make it? Ten years living underground?"_ David Drake asked doubtfully. His father glanced over his shoulder to ensure no one was listening and replied, _"Alan said that we managed to survive long enough to see the new world be born and I am sure he was right. I promise you, twelve years from now we'll be standing right here with the first citizens of the New World beside us,"_ he said, glancing at a biohazard box on the ground beside him with contained the research for Project Utopia.

Suddenly, a minor quake interrupted their talk; everybody paused for a moment before returning to work as if nothing had happened. David Drake shook his head, _"It's coming faster than we thought; that's the forth quake today."_ But Drake Sr shook his head sadly, _"No, this is just the beginning; soon there will be tsunamis and volcanic activity that will wreck havoc."_ They glanced up at the sky at the two tiny glowing bodies getting closer and closer, _"God help us all."_ Then the scene vanished, only to be replaced by one of absolute horror, set two years later on the day of Apocalypse, the hour of doom.

The Down reappeared around Alan and Fiver; only this time, the landscape was one of complete chaos. The sky was covered in dark clouds, forming raging storms as far out as the eye could see. Winds strong enough to tare trees up by their roots were carrying the scattered debris of buildings, vehicles and forests that had been ripped apart. The HAB, now complete, was visible only as a patch of barren earth on the spot where the construction site had been months ago. Now, there wasn't a single soul above ground; every man, woman or child, were huddled together in the HAB or any other underground shelters, waiting for the passing of Apocalypse.

Even though it was day, the entire atmosphere had gone dark, not so much from the super storms, but from the greatest solar eclipse ever observed from earth. The giant form of Apocalypse, which was so close to the Earth, it took up nearly a tenth of the sky, formed the dark circular shadow slowly moving across the sky, its gravitational pull wrecking havoc everywhere. Suddenly, the ground started to 'ripple' violently as a giant earthquake triggered by the rogue planet, which was now closest to the Earth as it would ever get, started taking its toll.

Violent vibrations shook the ground as the catastrophe ruthlessly continued. A roaring sound filled the air as the tectonic plates literally crumbled to pieces all around; even Alan and Fiver, who knew that they, in contrast to everyone else, were safe from the catastrophe, couldn't conceal their fear of seeing the world being demolished. Deep fissures opened up into the ground, unleashing steam and flames, the magma from the interior of the Earth bubbling up from their depths. One particularly big one opened up just beyond the southern foot of the Down, coming so close, it seemed the Down was about to be split in half along with the HAB. But it didn't happen.

The intensity of the super storms intensified by the second; hail fell everywhere with the force of cannon shots, immense lightning strikes hitting every electricity-conductive object in sight, causing them to burst into flame. People that hadn't managed to find shelter in time, were being lifted off the ground and hurled high up into the air like stray leaves and carried away by winds. Then came the worst.

With pure terror, Alan and Fiver watched as a giant tsunami swept inland from the south; the Atlantic had been torn from its depths and was swallowing up everything in its path; buildings, machinery, forests, the bodies of humans and animals alike, formed a giant wall of debris before the roaring wave. As the water made contact with the red-hot magma in the fissures, jets of hot steam shot up from their depths like exploding boilers. Then the wall of water struck the southern side of the Down, causing it to break from making contact with a solid obstacle. The water came crashing down over Alan and Fiver, but without harming them, as they were mere phantoms in this world. Then it was over; the water eased up, the earthquakes died down, the winds ceased and everything started calming down. Apocalypse was in the clear and moving away from the Earth in a new orbit, its gravitational influence ended.

Even after the storm had passed, the gigantic tide remained high for several days until the gravitational pull of Apocalypse had passed. Watership Down, for the first time ever, had become an island in the middle of an endless sea that had covered much of the British Isles. After treating the wounded, burying the dead and analysing the damage to the HAB, Drake and his fellow colonists had sent out rescue parties and assembled the thousands of survivors trapped on mountaintops or skyscrapers that had remained above water, adding more workers to their construction crew, as they prepared for the final stage of the catastrophe.

It was during that time that Drake had stumbled across a nest of orphaned wild rabbit kittens, which had miraculously survived the tsunami. After taking them in and nursing them back to health, he had kept them, hoping that they would be the hosts of the new species of rabbits he intended to create in a few years, initiating Project Utopia. The fissure formed just beneath the Down, which remained full of water from the Atlantic, became a new channel to the sea for boats to ferry supplies inland. Eventually the water receded back to sea level, revealing a landscape of absolute destruction worldwide, as the world prepared for the arrival of Pandora; doomsday was less than 19 months away.

Alan and Fiver once again found themselves standing on Watership Down, this time shortly before the impact with Pandora. Although it had been many months ago, the catastrophe left behind by the passing of Apocalypse was still clearly visible; fissures, scattered debris of ruined towns and forests could be seen everywhere. The appalling stench of death filled the air, from all the unburied dead still out there. Glowing in the evening sky overhead was a small but threatening body, approaching the Earth. All the selected scientists, soldiers, doctors, artists, officials and civilians selected by the national lottery stood assembled outside the HAB's entrance, looking at the last sunset of the old world.

As they watched the asteroid get closer and closer, a dozen missiles were seen being launched from different locations; the nuclear TITAN missiles were being launched, in a last desperate effort to deflect the threatening asteroid. Unfortunately, Alan and Fiver already knew it was no good; sure enough, all the missiles struck Pandora, blasting masses of fragments off its surface, but didn't destroy or deflect it. The largest chunk continued on its original trajectory, while the many smaller fragments flew in different directions as they entered the atmosphere. A fabulous, yet horrifying, show of pyrotechnics broke out as the fragments fussed on re-entry, brightening up the sky. Panic followed, as some of the larger fragments didn't burn up, hitting the ground like flaming rockets. As people run for cover, one man pointed at the foot of the Down, where all the abandoned construction vehicles were parked.

They all stared at a dark shadow moving swiftly across the ruined fields; hundred thousands of people that had lost the lottery, having turned insane with fear, were coming to storm the HAB. Panic broke out as stones, gunshots and flares were thrown in the direction of the refugees. Soldiers raised their weapons and opened fire against the rioters, mowing down some but the rest continued surging forward like a wave, desperate to save themselves. Ordering everyone to move underground immediately, the soldiers circled the HAB entrance, trying to keep the mob at bay, but it was no use.

Rioters started up some of the abandoned vehicles and charged forward, trying to smash the blockade and force their way in. The soldiers pulled back to the entrance, sealing the safety doors behind them. For a moment all seemed well, when suddenly the doors were forcibly smashed inwards by a lorry that drove at full speed through the entrance. Alan could vaguely recognise the now-aged grease monkey at the wheel. The rioters continued to advance, many jumping into the elevator shaft, plummeting to their deaths below, while the few remaining soldiers and even the unidentified future Prime Minister he had seen in Drake's logs among them, struggled in vain to restore order.

Suddenly a roaring sound was heard outside and, before anyone could realise what was happening, a massive explosion engulfed the entrance; a stray fragment of Pandora had come down right above the HAB entrance, like a ballistic missile. In an instant, the lorry that had smashed the doors exploded, causing the entrance to start caving in. The last thing Alan and Fiver saw before the scene shifted, was the grease monkey, the Prime Minister and many other soldiers and rioters, all being vaporized by the blast.

The HAB's atrium, crowded with hundreds of refugees, as well as a few of the rioters that had made it to safety, materialised around them. Everyone had their eyes fixed on the Planetarium dome, watching the asteroid impact via satellite imagery. Pandora was only minutes away; everyone held their breaths as the asteroid neared the boundaries of the Earth's atmosphere. Then, it touched; the asteroid bulged before the side exposed to the atmosphere burst like a ripe grape; millions of tons of mass colliding in a cosmic catastrophe. The asteroid fused as it entered the atmosphere and exploded with the force of a gigantic atomic bomb.

A massive shockwave spread across most of Asia, annihilating everything in its path, followed by a red-hot pyroclastic cloud unleashed by the shattered asteroid. An enormous mushroom sprouted at the point of impact, expelling shattered fragments back into space; on the ground, the fallout spread quickly, engulfing everything, from country to country and from continent to continent. Other smaller mushroom-shaped explosions, from where the smaller fragments of Pandora had struck, were also visible across the doomed Earth. They all shuddered, imagining the millions of people trapped outside, who were currently experiencing all of this up close, before they would be reduced to atoms by the blast or simply suffocated by the toxic fallout. Then the image paused as the data stream ended.

Muttering broke out among the spectators, as a voice over the intercom echoed throughout the HAB, _"The worst has come and gone; Pandora is shattered. Unquestionably, most of its mass merged with the Earth; but much of it has been deflected and now lies in scattered fragments that will settle in different orbits around the globe. The impact has rendered the surface of the Earth uninhabitable; the sky will soon be dark and asphyxiating from the fallout and it will remain like that for the next 10 years. However, we are alive, the HAB is fully operational and, hopefully, other HABs around the world are too. Therefore, we now begin our long wait, until the air clears and the dust settles, before we can start rebuilding civilisation."_

And so it was on the 26th May 2029, that the 2217 survivors of the former United Kingdom of Britain and Ireland began their long and perilous task of surviving underground. It was then, four years later, when Drake completed the greatest bioengineering project in history, one that would change the course of history forever.

A new scene materialised around Alan and Fiver; they were still inside the HAB, this time in the greenhouses that had become thick as a jungle, thriving with life. Drake, now the Chief Science Officer at the HAB, was striding around, walking passed gardeners harvesting vegetables grown from artificial light for the kitchens, taking down notes on his clipboard. Suddenly, one of his laboratory assistants came bursting in, _"The does are giving birth now sir!"_

Abandoning his duties, Drake rushed with his assistant down to the animal pens. There, inside a large cage, he had reserved for his own special use, the four wild does Drake had rescued, now fully grown, had just given birth to their first litter: one amazingly large kitten each, including a golden brown buck, a greyish brown buck with black-tipped ears, an all-black buck and a greyish-white doe. El-ahrairah, Rubscuttle, Hemlock and Laurel, the Four Brothers had been born. That day, Drake had announced his experiments to the rest of his fellow refugees. Although many had accepted the new species, others had been extremely weary of the prospect of one day having to share the planet with animals with human-level intelligence, almost as if anticipating the revolt still to come.

The HAB's library materialised around the two Life Memory Travellers, as they moved forward through time. The place was now at its peak, the bookcases bearing the finest copies of all books ever printed. Seated on cushions before HAL's screen were Drake, his wife and the Four Brothers, now nearing adulthood. The artificial librarian was playing the _Watership Down_ film adaptation, now dubbed into Lapine. On a desk beside him, Drake had a copy of _Watership Down_, _Tales of Watership Down_, _The Cross Bearer, _as well as several other books, bearing titles like _Lapine Theology, Lapine Linguistics, Lapine Philosophy _and others, written by his wife, to provide the necessary education for the new creatures that would soon be sharing their world as equals.

_"Hraeth u hraeth layth lay mes nalna, rah-roo asith u hrair nalnil as blair ai hlal es al layth zyhl es,"_ said Simmone Drake, quoting a famous line from the story of _Watership Down_ to a young El-ahrairah, who finished it, _"Lay kasrahalt as vatal ol kasrahil as mes vahril layth nahlnyt lay zorn."_

"_Very good El-ahrairah,"_ Drake said, clapping along with his wife. Rubscuttle and Laurel, right beside their future leader, beamed proudly. Only Hemlock, who seemed rather disappointed and jealous at El-ahrairah being praised rather than him, remained silent. Drake, spotting Hemlock's cold attitude, seemed rather disappointed, yet shrugged it off, as he turned back to his adoptive son and creation, _"You are becoming more and more the destined leader every day…all for you for that matter."_ At that last hasty comment, Hemlock's red eyes gleamed; the wheels in his head were turning…in a dangerous way. As if on queue, Laurel gave a moan and collapsed muttering gibberish; she, like Fiver, was a seer and currently having a vision. Although the scene ended before they could hear of the vision, Alan and Fiver didn't need to ask what it was; Laurel had just had a premonition of Hemlock's betrayal.

They found themselves atop a barren Watership Down, alongside Drake, his family, Santon and the Four Brothers (now into adulthood). A new tunnel had been dug through the collapsed HAB entrance, unsealing the exit to the surface. Now, eleven years after the catastrophe, a barren wasteland covered in ruins, dead vegetation and skeletal human remains, stretched out to the horizon. Just beyond the southern foot of the Down, the fissure that had formed during the quakes of 2027 had become a new river fed from other smaller streams in the area.

Although it was a thoroughly depressing sight, with the Earth currently deprived of all its original life forms, the group looked overjoyed at they watched the first sunrise of the New World. Alan noted that there were now _two_ morning stars visible in the sky; Apocalypse had been locked into orbit around the Sun, becoming the new third planet in the solar system, between Earth and Venus.

"_Breathable air, water, and nutrient-rich soil; everything needed to restore life to a dead world. Today, we start rebuilding!"_ Drake announced, as he planted the seedling of a beech tree right above the entrance, where the Honeycomb would exist some day. Although over two thirds of the original colonists had since died from diseases underground, 700 survivors, some livestock and the Four Brothers had made it through; the first day in the new world had begun. Then the scene materialised into another one, set several years later.

The landscape, now thriving with grass, mosses, ferns and a few young trees, but still lacking any thick vegetation, like the Mongolian steppes, was slowly returning to its old splendour. They were standing on the rim of a massive crater burned into the ground by a stray fragment of Pandora; the place where the village of savage humanoids would exist sometime in the future.

Standing on the rim of the crater were Hemlock and Laurel, as well as several other younger, evil-looking rabbits standing guard around the crater, which resembled a massive animal pen. In the pit below were a dozen or so children with savage, inhuman expressions on their faces; they were the mentally disabled children born in the HAB during the waiting out of the storm, the ones Hemlock had cunningly 'taken under his wing', to train as killers against their own kind. Now, to Alan and Fiver's sickening outrage, they watched as those children engaged in savage fights down in their pen like wild animals, the largest ones killing the weaker ones, displaying the all-too-familiar law of nature: survival of the fittest.

As Alan stared at Hemlock, who looked identical to his descendant, minus the missing eye, he saw the evil rabbit's red eyes gleaming with a supernatural light; Hemlock was a born mystic with mind-penetrating powers like Silverweed. The savage rabbit was controlling his 'flock' under the influence of a mind penetration like puppets on a stage, or rather like hounds trained to fetch the kill. Laurel was watching with a horrified expression as Hemlock demonstrated his power with sickening glee, _"They are marvellous, aren't they? Once I've finished picking out the strongest and disposed of the weaklings, we will have an army to match Drake's forces as well as the elil he intends to infest our world with."_

"_But…but this is monstrous!"_ Laurel protested, _"These…things you have created are savage brutes trained to kill and destroy…!"_ But Hemlock only chuckled evilly, _"Only to punish Drake and his people for betraying us by planning to unleash the elil upon us."_

_"But Drake explained that without the elil, our overpopulation would inevitably lead to our own doom. We all voted on his decision to introduce the elil…"_ Hemlock's expression turned stern, _"That's right; our overpopulation would lead Drake and his people to their doom; that's why he wants to 'trim' down our numbers, to keep us under control forever like slaves, as humans have always done to all creatures. Well, I am about to amend the situation; that's why I brought you here Laurel."_

_"And what do you want from me?"_ Laurel asked wearily, staring to grasp the harsh reality of Hemlock's intentions. The dark warlord spoke in a soft, almost pleading voice, _"Laurel, my dear, I want you to be part of my future. The traitors Drake and El-ahrairah will soon be finished for good. Join my forces Laurel; you'll be queen of the new world we will build together, not that vile unnatural world of man or the submissive cowardly co-existence El-ahrairah agreed upon. Our domain will be one of order, discipline and power, the appropriate status for our noble race. You've got a rare opportunity Laurel: the opportunity to be the second-in-command of our new world. Will you join me?"_ Laurel seemed to consider it; indeed, it was a very tempting opportunity that many would kill for.

_"There will be mercy, right? You'll send a messenger ahead to deliver your terms, before you launch an attack? Perhaps you won't need to go that far; maybe Drake will reconsider and withdraw the elil and accept his banishment from our lands. Many of them are our friends after all…"_

_"Traitors and scum are no friends of mine,"_ Hemlock replied coldly, _"And there is no exchanging of terms with enemies. Humans are like the White Blindness; the disease of their nature spreads faster than fire. Negotiation would be pointless anyway; no creature in its right mind would peacefully surrender to extermination…"_ He fell silent, realising he had said more than what he had intended. Laurel gasped in understanding, _"In other words, you intend to slaughter them all mercilessly? Drake, El-ahrairah, Rubscuttle, all my children… That's against all morals we rabbits stand for!"_

_"Laurel…"_ Hemlock pleaded, but she had already seen her mistake in trusting Hemlock, _"No, I won't listen! You're horrible to even consider such a thing! That's even lower and beastly than the elil you so much despise! No, I won't help you do this. In fact, I am going to warn El-ahrairah about this now; he would have done the same for you, had you been in his place."_ Hemlock watched disappointed, rather than saddened, as Laurel fled, before he summoned his oldest son, his Captain of Owsla over, _"Send a Wide Patrol to stop her and then assemble my army; we attack the HAB tomorrow at dawn."_

_"Our army is still too small to match the humans'…" _the rabbit protested but Hemlock cut him off, _"If we don't attack now with what we have, we lose our advantage; Drake sent many of his men away beyond the Big Water to find other human survivors. Now we have the chance of catching the remainder off guard, even without a sufficient army. We capture the HAB first; that's where Drake's people keep the secrets of their power, the power we need to rid this world of humanity's plague. Well, get on with it you fool!" _As the rabbit left to summon the troops, Hemlock gazed up at the blood-red horizon of the sunset,_ "My grand destiny awaits me!"_

Sure enough, Laurel was ambushed and killed by Hemlock's minions on her way home. The following morning at dawn, Hemlock and his army had stormed the HAB, intent on slaughtering everyone and seizing humanity's deepest secrets. However, Hemlock had not counted on one little factor: Santon, who secretly knew of Hemlock's betrayal through the visual log Alan had left him years earlier, had prepared a reception for his arrival. In contrast to the original timeline, where humanity had fallen that day, this time Hemlock's forces were greeted by a completely unexpected ambush set by Santon, Drake and El-ahrairah. Then, the memory of the failed siege materialised around Alan and Fiver.

They found themselves in the HAB's atrium; the planetarium dome had been darkened, turning the chamber very dim. For a moment Alan thought the place was deserted, until he spotted humans and rabbits alike hiding behind the steel supports lining the walls, using the darkness for cover. Suddenly, they noticed shadows emerging from the corridor that led to the elevator; Hemlock and his army were coming. Sure enough, Hemlock's fierce form stepped into the atrium, flanked by his Owsla; nothing immense, but big enough to capture the HAB, currently occupied only by Drake, Santon and half a dozen other unsuspecting colonists. Or so he thought.

Suddenly, they sprang the ambush. Without warning, Santon and his Marines suddenly opened fire, hitting the planetarium dome and causing it to shatter; thousands of razor-sharp glass splinters fell like knives, showering Hemlock and his Owsla. In an instant, bloodied and maimed rabbits run madly about, as El-ahrairah's own soldiers jumped from their hiding places and attacked. A battlefield broke out in the atrium, as Hemlock's forces put up a strong resistance. In the midst of the commotion, Alan noticed Hemlock slip away, heading towards the control room; he was going after Drake. Still invisible spectators, they followed him and behind them, they also noticed Santon, who had seen Hemlock slip away, following too, to protect his leader.

Entering the control room, they saw Drake being pinned to the floor by Hemlock. The evil warlord sneered at his soon-to-be victim, "_No Drake, as much as I hate to say it, you are still my creator. However, I cannot let you stop me. Your pitiful attempt to destroy me is of little consequence anyway, as I already have an heir to succeed me and continue my work after I am gone. El-ahrairah's people will soon be enslaved under my rule and will either obey me or die. __Farewell, 'father'… Aaargg!"_

Before he could maul Drake to death however, like a guardian angel sent from Heaven, Santon suddenly burst into the room and fired a bullet that struck Hemlock on the shoulder. Struck with pain, the dark warlord, realising he couldn't win, burst through a nearby window back into the atrium and bolted for the exit, calling to his minions, _"Pull out! Retreat!"_ Immediately, the few survivors of Hemlock's army pulled out, leaving behind many injured and dead, mostly their own fallen comrades.

After the injured were treated and the dead were buried, including Laurel, the HAB as well as El-ahrairah's warren in New Forest were put on alert for any further attacks. Hemlock fled into hiding with his remaining followers, as well as his 'herd' of human mutants, and started assembling a bigger and stronger army to renew his war against humans and El-ahrairah. During his time in hiding, he discovered the isolated island inside the canyon with the ruins of Buxton Hall, where he founded Efrafa, his new warren and domain. Although he had lost the battle, he had succeeded in one of his goals: a rapidly growing rift, fuelled by suspicion and distrust, had started opening between humans and lagomorphs.

A new scene materialised around Alan and Fiver. Set a few months after the attack on the HAB, after Drake's expeditions had returned from overseas, bringing back more survivors from the other HAB's abroad; a group of 700 malnourished people were being treated for diseases and malnutrition in the infirmary which was crowded with beds for the ill.

Alan's eyes instantly fell on a man with an artificial right hand lying on one of the infirmary beds; Sven Shertok, who had managed to survive the Apocalypse on the sidelines, had returned to England. Alan didn't fail to notice that the last surviving member of the long-gone Red Hand Brotherhood had completely changed his face with plastic surgery, making him unrecognisable to Drake and Santon, who believed him to be long dead. Safely hidden behind his changed face, Sven's eyes were gleaming dangerously; now that he had survived, he could start working his way into Hemlock's ranks and into power, to replace the glorious life that Alan had stolen from him all those years ago.

Posing under the name of Nesv Kotresh, to hide his true identity, he took up a position as the HAB's chief engineer, before secretly establishing an alliance with Hemlock by volunteering to work as a much-needed spy among Drake's people. Despite Alan's attempts to change this grim future, history was about to repeat itself, the inevitable having been postponed by only a few years.

The scene shifted to another scene set two years later; Drake stood in the HAB's control room, going over some photographs taken by their satellite telescope and running various calculations on the computers. His wife, El-ahrairah, Rubscuttle and several others stood beside him, looking anxious; there was some bad news. Sure enough, David Drake walked in, carrying a report. He handed it to his father who frowned in disappointment, _"HAL has analysed the data and confirmed our suspicions; because of the long absence of vegetation and algae for nutrient recycling following the impact of Pandora, has caused an imbalance of fresh and salt water, disrupting the ocean currents. As a result, we are on a verge of a major climate shift. We are facing the strong possibility of a upcoming Ice Age."_

"_So what can we do about it?"_ asked El-ahrairah, seemingly determined to face this new threat. Drake considered for a moment, _"The best solution is to move to another continent in the Southern Hemisphere; South America, Africa or Australia maybe, which should remain hospitable."_

"But _that means abandoning our home then, right?"_ asked Rabscuttle grimly. Drake nodded, _"Either that or risk freezing or starving to death here. An Ice Age can last a long time, maybe centuries; I doubt it will recede in our lifetime. Agriculture in the Northern Hemisphere will be virtually impossible; the best solution would be to start anew elsewhere…"_

"_We won't abandon our home,"_ El-ahrairah said firmly, _"That would allow Hemlock to come out of hiding and seize our land for himself. Any of our people that wish to leave may go, but Rabscuttle and I will stay to continue defending our homeland."_ Drake looked at his adoptive son with a mixture of sadness and pride, _"Very well; I'll announce the situation to the others today and I suggest you do the same with your people. We will start making plans for the evacuation at once and select those who wish to go and those who wish to stay."_

That very evening, Drake publicly announced the danger of the upcoming Ice Age that was expected to begin sometime within the next five years. After evacuation plans were made, everybody, excluding the Drakes, Santon and Sven, had decided to evacuate, convinced that there was no future left for them here, as well as for their fear of Hemlock. Within the next few months, vessels, aircraft and even a spacecraft were fitted out, to evacuate the population to the south and another smaller group to Apocalypse, in hopes of joining the colonies that were supposedly established there years earlier. Over the next few weeks, supplies, equipment and records of knowledge were transferred to possibly suitable locations close to the equator, while all the national treasures salvaged from the ruined cities, as well as the HABs, were shipped to secret vaults for safekeeping. The HAB was stripped of its precious resources, aside from the blanked HAL and some meagre supplies that Drake was kept for himself and his few remaining companions that had chosen to stay.

By early 2045 the HAB was stripped and deserted; the evacuation however, only ended in total disaster. The _Apocalypse II_ spacecraft, commanded by David Drake, was destroyed on lift-off and after all communication was lost with the evacuation convoy, which had been caught in a hurricane, it was given up for lost at sea. It wasn't long after the mourning for David Drake and the others lost was over, when the beginning of the end finally came for Drake and his friends, the last survivors of the human race, when Hemlock returned for another strike. And this time, fate was in his favour.

The scene shifted to another set shortly after Hemlock's attack on El-ahrairah's warren. After Sven had informed his new master about the disastrous evacuation, the dark warlord, who had finished rebuilding his army, decided it was time to strike. This time, El-ahrairah's warren had been attacked, resulting in total destruction and massacre. Although Drake, Santon and Sven had arrived in time with guns to counteract the attack, the resistance had resulted in a total fiasco when, to everyone's utmost shock, 'Nesv Kotresh' had suddenly turned and shot El-ahrairah from behind, striking him down. Revealing himself as Sven Shertok, Hemlock's spy and assassin had fled with the rest of his master's troopers. Now, Alan and Fiver could see a devastated warren, with countless of dead or injured rabbits lying everywhere.

Staring in the direction of a group of wounded that lay on a patch of untouched grass that had survived the siege, Alan and Fiver saw a distraught Drake and Rabscuttle kneeling over El-ahrairah's maimed and bloodied form. The Prince of Rabbits, now missing his ears, whiskers and tail after been viciously mauled during the battle, and with Sven's fatal bullet wound visible in his upper torso, lay dying beside his adoptive father and friend.

"_Please El-ahrairah, hold on. We came all this way together; please, you can't give up on me now!"_ Drake sobbed, holding a shirt over the wound to stop the bleeding. Beside him, Rabscuttle was crying like a kitten, lost for words. El-ahrairah looked up at Drake muttering softly, _"Brace up Cole; Hemlock may have won this battle but his descendants will still meet their match when the Gift of Prince Rainbow comes to pass…"_ These were his last words before he slipped away into a peaceful death. For a second there was utter silence as every surviving rabbit became aware that their beloved Prince and leader was dead. Then Rabscuttle exploded in a fit of rage.

_"How could you let this happen, you miserable ithe? It's because of you that my master is dead! You have betrayed our trust and friendship; get out and never come back or you'll be killed!"_ More shouts of agreement sounded all around them; the pain of the loss of El-ahrairah because of Sven's betrayal had destroyed the friendship between the humans and lagomorphs beyond the point of recovery. Santon had to forcibly drag a hysterical Drake away, before he could be harmed in retaliation. Rubscuttle, now Rubscuttle-rah, and his surviving people soon set off in search of a place to establish a new warren, swearing never to trust humans again.

The scene shifted to another in the ruinous Buxton Hall a few weeks after Drake and his companions had been banished. Sven, who had made his cartel's old headquarters into his hideout after he had deserted the HAB, was preparing to evacuate. In spite of his success in killing El-ahrairah and ruining Drake, instead of receiving the generous reward he had been promised, he had found Hemlock to be less sympathetic towards him and had begun to suspect he was planning to double-cross him. Being a man who acted first rather than wait to find out the hard way, he had made plans to flee to safety overseas.

Packing the bottle of chloroform and some other weapons and equipment in his backpack, he set off down the secret tunnel, which he believed he alone knew about, making his way down to the cove, where he had a plane waiting. Alan and Fiver followed him, already knowing that Sven would never make it out alive. Sure enough, as the traitor reached the generator room and paused at the generator to collect some extra fuel, the shadows of Hemlock's soldiers that had been expecting him, suddenly sprang from the shadows, surrounding him. Sven drew his revolver and opened fire against his attackers but they were too many and soon he had used up his last bullet.

The group of savage rabbits parted, revealing Hemlock, who grinned evilly, _"Greetings Sven, my slippery servant."_ Sven felt his lip tremble in anticipation as he mumbled, _"My…my Lord…I live to serve you…"_

"_Indeed you are,"_ replied Hemlock coldly, _"But I believe you've finally outlived your usefulness; I think it's time I rewarded you by relieving you of your duties…forever."_ Sven, his mind working furiously to talk his way out of this mess, retorted, _"I helped you defeat your enemy…"_

"_That you did,"_ replied Hemlock with a cold sneer, _"but you're still a creature of low birth and I have no further use for you. Your presence in my domain would only corrupt my philosophy of rabbit purity. If you're still loyal to me, which I seriously doubt,"_ he said, looking at the soldiers Sven had just shot, _"then come forward and bow to death as a honourable servant. For old times' sake, I'll make it for you as quick as possible…"_

Finally realising his fatal mistake in trusting Hemlock, Sven reached into his pack for the chloroform cylinder, intent on gassing the soldiers surrounding him to escape, but Hemlock was faster; in one swift move, he knocked Sven down, knocking his pack away. The last thing Alan and Fiver saw before the scene ended, was a trickle of blood spreading across the floor between the Efrafans' legs, Sven's screams ringing in their ears, as the Efrafans mauled him to death. Shortly after Sven was killed, Hemlock attempted to seize the HAB yet again, where Santon somehow finally killed him in single combat, forcing his army to retreat. However it was already known by then that Hemlock had left behind heirs, to succeed his leadership and continue his evil work.

Shortly thereafter, the Ice Age had fell upon the world, freezing everything solid. Drake and Santon tried many times to renew their friendship with Rubscuttle, by offering food and shelter for the rabbits. Despite Hemlock's defeat and Sven having been punished for his betrayal, El-ahrairah's old friend, defensive of his pride, bluntly refused any help, and eventually died of starvation during the first few months of the Ice Age. His people scattered throughout the area that became known as the meadows of Fenlo, while the area where Efrafa and the HAB were, was named the Dark Territory, a region believed to be cursed and dangerous.

The scene shifted to another set a year or so after the defeat of Hemlock. Drake, his wife and Santon were gathered in the HAB's disused control room, now stripped of all its state-of-the-art equipment. With his time capsule containing all his journals and documents packed and sealed beside him, Drake consulted his watch, _"Five minutes till the bomb goes."_

"_Are you sure we should do this dear?"_ asked his wife anxiously as they waited for death. Drake took his wife in his arms, _"Simmone, my darling, we have done our duty; we are both very old, our son and adoptive children are all dead and humanity is finished, so we have nothing else left to live for. Besides, starvation will get us soon anyway; the only thing we can hope for is a quick death. It's now up to Alan and his friends to carry on where we left off. I am sure he will manage it."_

_"Damn straight he will,"_ said a horribly scarred Santon, as he opened his hip flask of brandy and filled three shots, _"I'd like to propose a toast; to Alan Johnson! May he succeed in his mission of correcting the future!"_

At that moment, a faint bursting noise was heard as the gas bomb Drake had planted in the facility's ventilation system went off, unleashing a deadly release of cyanide gas. Just before the poison got to them, Santon shook Drake's hand, _"It's been a privilege fighting alongside you Sir Drake."_ Drake nodded in gratitude, _"I am the one honoured, Lieutenant."_ He kissed his wife one last time, just as the deadly smell of cyanide filled the air. Drake, followed by his wife, and finally Santon, all collapsed on the floor dead, having taken their own lives. Alan and Fiver had a second to mourn them, before the scene melted away.

Author's note: Part 2 of the Life Memory Journey is complete! The next chapter, the third and final part of the Journey, will show memories from the Thearah's timeline, some parts of Alan's journey showing what changed because of their temptation with time and finally, some memories of the future yet to come. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW! I laboured hard to write this story! Until next time then! Cheerio!


	57. Chapter 57 Life Memory Journey Part3

Alan and Fiver continued on the Life Memory Journey; this time, they had jumped a great distance forward in time; the steppes-like environment of the era of the Four Brothers was gone and replaced with the familiar jungle-like environment of the future world. The Ice Age had ended long ago and the warm climate of the future had appeared, reshaping the environment into the paradise Alan had seen on his initial arrival.

Looking around, he realised they were back at Sandleford, at the Cessna's original landing site to be exact. Only now there was no sign of the plane or any traces that it had ever been there at all. Even the tree where Julio's grave was supposed to be, had no name carved on its trunk and the ground beneath it was undisturbed. This memory was set several years or so before Alan and his companions had come, definitely not so long ago since the surrounding area looked pretty much the same.

As they wandered what date it was, they suddenly realised they weren't alone; walking in a crouched position in the tall grass, were several giant rabbits, heading in the direction of Fiver's old warren. Alan frowned as he recognised the leader: a burly, tar-black rabbit with glaring red eyes and pointed front teeth like those of a lion. General Woundwort, looking significantly younger that what Alan remembered him, and with both eyes intact, was leading a Wide Patrol towards the warren.

Accompanying him were several other rabbits, two of which looked familiar; Alan frowned as he recognised a younger Vervain, who seemed to be on his first patrol outside Efrafa, probably on a training session. Although he was awfully small and unfit in comparison to the rest, Woundwort had probably let him tag along, hoping to use him as a snoop or a lookout. The second buck was well built with familiar brown fur and emerald eyes…Alan gasped as he realised it had to be Campion's father, Captain Hedge (Vervain was a few years older than Campion, so judging by his young age here, Campion had to be too young to be drafted in the Owsla yet).

Without taking the slightest notice of Alan or Fiver, which under normal circumstances would have been out of the question, the bandits noiselessly made their way towards the boundaries of Sandleford. As they approached the edge of the clearing where the outskirters usually went out to silflay, the group took cover under the same bushes Alan had used when he had been trying to get a closer look at the giant rabbits of the future for the first time.

_"So, this must be Sandleford, the warren where those outsiders came from,"_ Woundwort said to his Patrol, _"If those prisoners the Council interrogated under torture spoke the truth, then there should be plenty of healthy litters here, hopefully including strong healthy bucks that can join my ranks when they reach maturity."_

_"What if the Chief's deputy, or whoever is in charge there now, given that their Chief is currently… indisposed, suspects foul play and refuses cooperation?"_ asked Vervain. But Woundwort, in contrary to any sane being that would logically hesitate at the prospect, seemed almost pleased at the thought of encountering trouble as he sneered maliciously, _"Then those who die first will be the lucky ones."_

Although Vervain and some of the other Efrafans looked impressed by their Chief's ruthlessness, Captain Hedge frowned in disapproval, _"Sir, if you don't mind me saying so, it is against our morals to engage in such brutality unprovoked. If they don't want to let us have any of their does or litters, we could always try at that other warren, Thinial…"_

_"Indeed Captain Hedge, but anyone who insults the great General Woundwort with refusal, makes him my enemy, which rightfully provokes my wrath. We'll make a peaceful approach and state our terms; the choice will be theirs."_ During his long career of invading and destroying, Woundwort had developed a trick of gathering inside information on alien warrens: he would approach the enemy warren alone, posing as a messenger to deliver his 'Chief's' terms. As in most cases, if his sinister demands were met with refusal, he would leave without making a fuss, only to return later with his army, to either enslave or destroy the warren, enforcing his will.

"_What about that one who escaped?"_ asked Vervain, referring to an outsider's squad they had captured trespassing into their territory a few days ago. The Threarah, who had recently replaced his late father Beachwood-rah as Chief Rabbit of Sandleford, had been leading an expedition to the south, in search of suitable territory to expand his overcrowding warren. Unfortunately, the expedition party had been captured by a Wide Patrol and taken before Woundwort for interrogation. The Threarah had watched horrified as his companions were interrogated, tortured and killed one by one; upon learning of Woundwort's plans for his warren, he had fought savagely and barely managed to escape from Efrafa, intent on making his way home alone. Woundwort, not wanting to miss the opportunity, had assembled a Wide Patrol and made for Sandleford himself, intent on getting there first and executing his plans before the Threarah would make it back and warn his people.

_"In the unlikely event that that cowardly troublemaker shows up here alive before we're finished, you lot will be ready to finish what we should have done with him back at Efrafa."_ After ordering his Patrol to circle the warren but to remain out of sight, Woundwort confidently made his way through the outskirters' region of the warren, looking for the Chief's burrow. Alan and Fiver followed him, staring at the many rabbits playing around, most of which looked vaguely familiar…

A group of young rabbits, no more than a few months old, were playing close by. Alan and Fiver gasped as they recognised their friends as _kittens_; Acorn, Speedwell, Buckthorn, Hawkbit and Dandelion, among other familiar faces, were recognisable among the kittens at play. Standing aside from the group, alone, were also two creamy brown kittens, the first a slim one and the other a skinny runt; Hazel and Fiver were pretty much isolated from the others because of Fiver's sixth sense and because of Hazel's devotion to his smaller sibling. At the sight of Woundwort's savage stare, the kittens run to hide behind their mothers while the adults cringed and drew away from him almost as if they expected the stranger to strike anyone within reach. Alerted by the commotion, the Owsla appeared. An pale brown rabbit accompanied by a dozen Owsla bucks, including a younger Holly, then a junior Owsla scout, surrounded Woundwort.

"_I am captain Broom of Sandleford,"_ the captain of Owsla said sharply, _"Who are you stranger and what do you want?"_ Despite being surrounded by an Owsla squad, Woundwort didn't seem the least fearful, as he nodded curtly and answered in a calm voice, _"My name is Wheatstock; I come with a request from my Chief, which I must deliver to your Chief…personally. Take me to him,"_ he said in a perfectly imitated friendly voice, hiding his true intentions. Sure enough, as Captain Broom, who was acting leader in his Chief's absence, led the visitor towards the main entrance to the warren, Woundwort's eyes were spinning in their sockets, taking into account every detail as he mentally noted down the warren's defences, the size of the Owsla and every other bit of information he needed to plan his attack.

As they followed Woundwort through the elite neighbourhood, Alan recognised more kittens of the higher class of Sandleford: Bigwig, Toadflax, Scabious, Blackberry, Violet and Silver, also as kittens, who had fathers who were Owsla officers or advisors to the Chief Rabbit were kept separate from the outskirters' neighbourhood, to 'keep them out of bad company'. Alan noticed a sulking infant Silver being carried by his stern-faced mother Flyairth, a massive silvery white doe very similar to the Threarah. It seemed that Silver had wondered off to play with his outskirter friends, only to be brought back by his strict mother who, like her brother, believed it was inappropriate for her son to be intermingling with the lower social class.

Suddenly, just as Captain Broom was about to escort Woundwort underground into the main chamber, a commotion was heard from the boundaries of the warren as a deranged rabbit appeared out of nowhere, running furiously towards Woundwort yelling, _"STOP THAT RABBIT! HE IS AN IMPOSTOR, MURDERER!"_

They all turned round shocked, to see a dirty and mauled younger Threarah, who had managed to make it back in the nick of time to catch Woundwort in the act. Despite being exhausted from his ordeal at Efrafa, Threarah seemed to be fuelled with determination to protect his people, as he attacked Woundwort with wild strength. Woundwort, unprepared for this sudden attack, was instantly pinned down.

"_You killed my friends, you damned beast of Inle! And now you come to infiltrate my warren? You shall pay for this!"_ With a roar of rage, Threarah slashed Woundwort viciously across the face, ripping his left eye out; the evil dictator, half-blinded and howling in pain, turned and fled with Threarah and the entire Sandleford Owsla in hot pursuit. But Woundwort had already made it past the boundaries, calling to his lookouts, _"Pull back! Retreat!"_

Threar and Captain Broom called the Owsla to a halt as they watched Woundwort, along with Vervain and Captain Hedge, the only two surviving members of the Patrol (the rest had all been attacked and killed by the Owsla when Threar had snuck into the warren and alerted the sentries). Woundwort, bleeding and utterly humiliated at being driven off like a mouse before a cat, turned to glare at his enemies, his savage features under the mask of blood that coated his face, contorted with fury, _"You shall all suffer for this! By the Black Rabbit of Inle, I will have revenge!"_ Threarah only glared back at Woundwort. Nobody noticed Captain Hedge give Threar and quick wink, which Threar returned gratefully; it had been _he_ who had first spotted Threar returning but, realising that his master's quest for conquest had gone too far, had let him pass without signalling to his Patrol to stop him.

Woundwort's chance for revenge had presented itself shortly thereafter, when they found shelter in a nearby hole. That hole, which had been the basement of a local agricultural centre centuries ago, contained many sealed containers of hazardous chemicals, including a bottle containing a sample of the Myxomytosis virus. As his family had secretly preserved all of Hemlock's knowledge of the human world through the ages, Woundwort realised he had found a useful asset; convinced that the Threarah would evacuate his warren before he could return with an army, he decided that Sandleford had to be destroyed with everyone in it, as well as every other warren in the vicinity, otherwise Efrafa's existence would be compromised. And the best way to do this was the White Blindness, which left a rabbit blind and without its sense of smell, making it easy prey for elil; the perfect way for a mass extermination.

After outlining his plan to his companions, Captain Hedge had once again protested; only Vervain, who had been working as a snoop for his master, found that perfect moment to step in and inform Woundwort that he had observed Hedge let Threarah get to the warren without making any attempt to stop him. Hedge, realising he was doomed, admitted it was true, arguing it was against the Owsla code of honour to engage in the appalling activities his master valued so much. Woundwort, furious at the betrayal that had cost him a warren worth of slaves as well as his left eye, slaughtered his Captain of Owsla on the spot.

After disturbing the canisters so they would leak, Woundwort and Vervain departed to return to Efrafa. The details surrounding Hedge's execution for treason were kept a secret to avoid any further protests. Campion was drafted into the Owsla, replacing his father, much to Vervain's dismay, who had been hoping to be promoted to Captain of Owsla.

Within a few days, all the flees in the area had become hosts to Myxomitosis and started infecting every rabbit in the area; the first warren to fall was Thinial. A few survivors fled to Sandleford but unknowingly brought the disease with them. The Threarah, realising he had no choice if he wanted to save his warren, was forced to take drastic measures: every rabbit displaying even the faintest of symptoms was forcefully driven out of the warren to die.

Those driven out, including Flyairth, Captain Broom, and many others, most of which were relatives to Hazel and Fiver's friends, after losing their vision and sense of smell, soon fell prey to elil or stumbled into the river and drowned. Although the purge saved the warren from complete annihilation, there were further victims from the swarming elil, attracted from the many wondering blind rabbits, including Pipkin's parents and brothers who fell to a weasel that ventured into their burrow one night, killing them all minus Pipkin.

Due to the many losses, for the first time ever, many outskirters, including Walnut and his three oldest sons, were hastily drafted into the staggering Owsla, to help in the reconstruction. But their inexperience resulted in many accidents, including the loss of Hazel and Fiver's father and brothers during a disastrous raid for flayrah. It wasn't until the following winter, when the cold forced the infected flees to withdraw, allowing the Owsla, led by the courageous Lieutenant Holly, to track down the hole where the Myxomitosis had originated from and sealing it up, thus ending the outbreak. For his success in ending the crisis, Holly, the Threarah's closest friend and trustee, was promoted to Captain of Owsla and Sandleford was slowly able to recover, only to be destroyed a few years later, in the accident with McEwen's chopper.

Another scene materialised, set years after Woundwort's dark scheme with the White Blindness: Alan recognised the Council Chamber in the heart of Efrafa. Woundwort, now much older and with his left eye blind, stood atop his stone platform, staring through a skylight in the cavern ceiling, at the rainbow-coloured light of the Aurora. Tonight was the beginning of the legendary Gift of Prince Rainbow; the Hole in the Sky had appeared that evening, just as prophesised by his ancestors.

Just like his forefathers all the way back to Hemlock, he had dedicated his life on building an invincible army that would someday serve the purpose of enforcing his rule upon the entire world. If the Gift of Prince Rainbow was real, then it would soon be time to embark on his quest to finally complete his ancestor's dream: an empire of order, discipline and power, without elil or any other enemies capable of challenging it. The General and his family had spent generations preparing for this moment; in comparison to the Threarah, who had chosen to simply bury the truth like a coward, Woundwort had the greatest army in the Meadows of Fenlo, ready to welcome the Messenger of Prince Rainbow, or otherwise destroy him, should he turn out to be in favour of resurrecting El-ahrairah's legacy rather than his.

Suddenly, Captain Vervain, who had since become Head of Owslafa, as well as a Mark Officer, came running into the chamber looking alarmed, Campion in tow, _"Escape! General, that troublemaker Hyzenthlay has gone! She and that miserable hraka Blackavar caught Chervil by surprise and bolted. They've taken a crowd of the Mark with them!"_ Woundwort's daydreaming of his destiny was instantly replaced with burning rage as he rounded on his officers.

"_Embleer Frith, I'll blind those traitors when I catch them! All right, Campion, get every available Owsla rabbit you can spare and get after them. Vervain, send a messenger ahead to have the guards double the security on the bridge. I want them, dead or alive! Well, get to it you fools!"_ Campion, who had been petrified for an instant, realising Hyzenthlay and her friends were now in big trouble, turned and hurried to carry out the order, silently preying that the does and Blackavar would somehow manage to evade capture.

Meanwhile, above ground, Blackavar, Hyzenthlay, Thethuthinnang, Vilthuril, Nelthilta and Thrayonlosa were scrambling up the sides of the Crixa. Just as they had made it to the top, the rest of the guards, which had been distracted by the sight of the Aurora, noticed them, _"Runners! Sound the alarm! Stop them!"_ A loud series of stamping was the escape alarm being sounded; the Owsla instantly regrouped and gave chase. Blackavar paused for a second and pushed some dry earth over the rim of the Crixa, right on top of the advancing guards, slowing them down somewhat.

The group of six turned and run for their lives, Blackavar leading the way. Unfortunately, they hadn't counted on the scouting guards patrolling the boundaries. Sure enough, just as they came to the bridge, some of the guards caught up; in an instant, Blackavar was pinned down by Mallow and Chervil.

The does, seeing their friend caught, hesitated for a moment, as if tempted to help him but then remembered how they agreed that they wouldn't turn round to help anyone caught, and kept on running. Although it made them feel cowardly and selfish, they knew all too well that this was the only chance they would ever get of knowing freedom again. Unfortunately, Vervain, who had joined in the chase, stood over the immobilised Blackavar sneering, _"I know how to make those traitors surrender."_ He glared cruelly at Blackavar, who whimpered in fear, _"You're about to learn what happens to vermin who insult me by allying themselves with traitors, you miserable troublemaker!"_

Giving the word, Chervil and Mallow grabbed hold of Blackavar's ears, tearing them to ghastly shreds using both teeth and claws, while still holding the prisoner pinned beneath them. Blackavar's screams filled the air, while Vervain called out in the direction of the fleeing does, _"Surrender now, or we torture him to death on your behalf!"_ Blackavar, his face soaked in his own blood, screamed after them, _"Never mind about me; just run! If they catch you, they'll only kill you too!"_ Vervain's cruel persuasion seemed to win out however, as the does, submitting to their conscience, slowed down, allowing Campion to catch up and start leading them back. But this time, Vervain's cruelty had gone too far.

Suddenly, Thrayonlosa, Blackavar's mate, sprang at Vervain, knocking him over. With a snarl of rage, she started slashing the Head of Owslafa across the face, _"You foul, evil creature!"_ she shrieked, _"I'll blind you for this, even if I die for it!"_ Vervain, who was no match for the larger doe, screamed, _"Help! Guards, restrain her!"_ Mallow and Chervil released Blackavar and rushed to their master's aid. That left Blackavar free for a split second; he charged at Campion, knocking him over and leaving the coast free for them to run. Unfortunately, Thrayonlosa, who had been pinned down by the guards, was left behind.

Woundwort had arrived shortly thereafter; after Vervain had briefed him on what had happened – his way of course - Thrayonlosa was taken back to Efrafa and brought before the Council, where she was tortured and brutally executed for treason, much to Vervain's satisfaction, who had been utterly humiliated at failing to prevent this escape within his own Mark.

Determined not to let Thrayonlosa to have died in vain, the group of five had kept running until they reached the edge of the cliffs; since they had never been past the boundaries of the Crixa before, they had no idea that Efrafa was located on an _island_ and that the bridge – now under heavy guard - was the only way off. Trapped, with Blackavar injured and the Owsla swarming the island for them, they had stumbled across the broken sewer tunnel that led into the abandoned ruins of Buxton Hall. Venturing into the ruins, looking for a safe refuge, they had gotten themselves trapped inside the freezer, when the door had slammed shut in a breeze. That was where Alan and the Watership Down Owsla found them several days later.

The Efrafan Owsla, after combing every inch of the island but finding nothing, had been ordered to expend the search outside Efrafa. Woundwort sent Vervain and the two guards who had let the does escape to search the area, to make up for their failure. Instead, Vervain returned with Robbins, whom Woundwort believed to be the Messenger, prompting the dark warlord to launch his conquest in earnest. Then the memory faded and a new one materialised, set a few days after Hyzenthlay's escape from Efrafa.

Alan and Fiver recognised Newtown Churchyard, where they had discovered the three false graves containing Sergey's lost shipment. Robbins watched as Cowslip opened up the graves; it was the day when they had sought shelter at Cowslip's warren, hoping to find food and does for the new warren. Robbins, having taken his time to make plans about what course of action to take, had decided to confide in Cowslip and bring him in on the scheme to kill Alan and make the most of this new world. The first step would be to acquire a weapon to use to take control, in this case the three nuclear cores left behind by the late Sergey Petrograd, whose location the legendary terrorist had confided to Robbins alone.

Soon the graves were exhumed, revealing the armoured bomb cases supposedly containing the lost heart of Project Black Inferno, which had been buried there centuries ago and forgotten, following Sergey's unexpected death. Using a stone and a rusted crowbar he had taken off the skeleton of a fireman inside the church ruins, Robbins got to work, cracking the sealed cases open. The surprise awaiting him as he creaked the lid open, revealing the contents of the first case, was one of utter surprise and outrage.

Instead of containing a nuclear power cell, the case was filled to the rim with _gravel_; the weight had served as a decoy to trick anyone who found the case into believing the core was still stowed inside. He dug his hands into the gravel, hoping to find the core underneath but there was nothing. Glancing at the other two cases, fearing the worst, he got to work, forcing them open but finding exactly the same thing; aside from a load of worthless gravel, the cases contained absolutely nothing. Robbins cursed as he realised someone had beaten him to the prize.

_"So where are those special human weapons you spoke of?"_ frowned Cowslip, his white fur coated in dirt from the digging, _"You made me dig in the dirt as a common simpleton for a load of stones?"_ Robbins, who was too busy trying to reason things out, replied absent-mindedly, _"I had the impression that rabbits dig every day…"_ Cowslip seemed to take offence at those words as he spoke back at Robbins in a sharp tone.

_"Only disgraceful renegades like my guests would ever do hard labour! My warren is one of dignity and the will to accept our fate…"_ He suddenly stopped, uncertain whether or not he could trust Robbins. But from Robbins' curious stare as well as from the fact that the man had just confessed to him that he intended to murder his own companions, Cowslip felt at ease to share his secret.

"_My warren was founded hrair seasons ago, shortly after your kind had died out. Some of my ancestors wanted to return to our old ways, when intelligent humans cared for us and protected us from hunger, disease and the elil, so we managed to set up a 'co-existence' with your descendants."_

_"My descendants? You mean there are still humans around?"_ Robbins asked feeling hopeful; if there were humans like him still around, then he could find all the help he needed, perhaps even learn more about this world and how to exploit it. To his disappointment, Cowslip replied, _"They aren't like you any more; they are savage and bloodthirsty, like the elil, with no abilities of speech or intelligence. However, they still feed us and protect us from the elil. In exchange, I offer them some random members of my disciples, who foolishly, yet dignified as they are, accept their fate for the good of their friends. Our lives are pleasant and we move on into Frith's Heaven, only to resume it for the rest of eternity. Everyone who lives here is relieved of all hardships forever; we are as close to Frith's Heaven as we will ever get before our time comes,"_ he explained.

"_What about enemies? I don't suppose your enemies would think the same way if they came to storm you,"_ Robbins said, interested in finding out more about the key to Cowslip's easy and luxurious life. Although by the sound of it, it seemed like what he would call 'pathetic cowardice', he couldn't help but feel impressed. Cowslip smiled proudly as he went on speaking, _"My philosophy not only guarantees an easy life, but endless peace as well; there is another warren, about a day's walk from here, called Efrafa. It is ruled by the very master of brutality and warfare, General Woundwort. Yet even he was too impressed with my work to let it go to waste by destroying us; he occasionally visits my warren, when he is short of slaves, to trade with me. As long as I can provide healthy but idle rabbits, especially does, my warren remains immune to his forces."_

_"Most impressive; although I would rather take brutal force to get my way any day, your cunning doesn't fail to amaze me,"_ Robbins said to Cowslip who smiled, "_I wish all my people shared your good taste; there are a few ungrateful wretches like that oaf Strawberry, who dare question me. So much for appreciation… Even my mystic Silverweed, whom I offered immunity from the 'trading' because of his powers, refuses to be content unless I use a firm paw."_ he said, explaining how Silverweed's mind-penetration powers were used to control the thoughts of the rabbits around him, causing idleness and less chances of desertion or revolt. Robbins, who had been doing some careful thinking in the back of his head and fuelled with the suspicion that Alan had something to do with the disappearance of the cores, spoke up.

"_I see. And it seems I now have a troublemaker to sort out myself; it seems my friend Alan thinks he is one step ahead of me. We will wait till he comes to us, and give him a proper token of appreciation as one would to a thief. Personally, I can't wait to kill him for the sheer pleasure of it, whether or not he has something to do with this…interesting development. It's my master back home who wants answers, not me; I only want sweet revenge."_

_"Has he done you some injustice too?" _asked Cowslip_, "A thief and double-crosser, even amongst his friends? So much for hospitality; I offer him and his hlessil friends hospitality and a chance for an easy life and yet they repay it with ungratefulness."_

_"Nobody could have put it better," _replied Robbins smugly, _"That's why I have a proposition for you. Listen carefully…"_ He whispered something into Cowslip's ear, to which the sly rabbit grinned in sickly satisfaction. Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by Bigwig, who had been watching them and overheard enough to realise that Robbins was indeed up to no good. Unfortunately, the veteran hadn't counted on the fact that Robbins was armed (rabbits weren't familiar with human weaponry) and was instantly struck down by Robbins' stun gun. After hanging Bigwig from a nearby tree with a length of cord around his neck, leaving him to slowly strangle to death, the two associates sat waiting to ambush Alan, when he came looking for them.

Alan had indeed turned up only a few minutes later with Hazel and Fiver. Holding them at gunpoint, Robbins had confessed his true intentions and threatened to kill them unless Alan told him what had happened to the missing cores. Alan of course, had no idea, infuriating Robbins, who had proceeded to tie Hazel and Fiver up and leave them for the elil and to shoot Alan dead. It was only thanks to Bigwig regaining consciousness in the nick of time, that they had a narrow escape. Although it had puzzled them as to who could have stolen the cores, Alan eventually realised the truth when he returned to his own time and removed the cores himself, to change the future. The scene then shifted to another, set during their desperate infiltration of Efrafa, to rescue Fiver and Pipkin after they had been captured.

The underground Council chamber materialised around the two Life Memory Travellers. They could see Alan's past self, dirty and bruised, caught in a furious fight with Woundwort, with only his knife to defend himself with. After the Owsla had cornered them, Alan had been dragged off and brought before Woundwort for interrogation, who had ordered the Council out along with the guards, so that he could interrogate the Messenger in privacy, before killing him.

Meanwhile, after having temporarily driven back the Owsla with the help of the slaves, who had pitched in on Campion's command, Hazel and the others burst into the Council Chamber, just in time to see Woundwort plummet to his 'death' in the burial pit. Unfortunately, in contrast to the previous timeline, Robbins, who had slipped away in the confusion, was listening from the depths of the pit, hoping to see Alan's dead body land at his feet. When Alan's knife had fallen down the shaft, he had picked it up, as a souvenir from his nemesis' apparent 'demise'; that move had ironically saved Woundwort's life, when the dictator came plummeting down a few seconds later. Above, Alan and his friends, seeing Woundwort fall, mistook him for dead.

That mistake had proven to be disastrous when Woundwort reappeared a few minutes later, shouting at his confused Owsla to capture the outsiders. The group had barely managed to flee back to the secret tunnel – which was unblocked this time - with the Owsla hot on their heels. As they had made their way through, they were ambushed by Robbins, who gravely injured Fiver with the strychnine dart meant for Alan. With the exception of Alan, Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, Pipkin, Silver and McEwen, who had made it through the secret passage, before they blew it up using the grenades they had found in the caverns (the ones Alan had planted there in 2013), cutting them off from the advancing Efrafans, the group were taken prisoner.

With Fiver injured, the group had sat, waiting for Derek to return for them, until Hawkbit and Dandelion showed up with the news that Woundwort had seized the Down (they had managed to escape when one of the stolen nitroglycerine canisters had exploded, destroying the bridge and casting them into the river below). Then McEwen had shown them the Cessna keys he had stolen from Robbins during the scuffle in the caverns. Fearing that Derek wasn't coming back anymore, the group realised that the Cessna was their only chance of escape.

Realising that the plane couldn't take all nine of them, the group had decided to draw straws. After waiting for the storm to hit to hide them from view, they had sneaked out and made their way towards the Cessna's hiding place. While labouring frantically to strip the aircraft, Vervain had spotted them and alerted the Owsla. Quickly making a hasty draw of straws, Alan, Hazel, Fiver, Pipkin, Bigwig and Hawkbit got the seats. McEwen managed to stall the Efrafans using their last grenade, allowing him, Silver and Dandelion to make it back to the manor for cover, where they had sat waiting for the others to return with help.

Alan and Fiver watched as Woundwort, Campion, Vervain and the rest of the Efrafan Owsla watched in amazement as the plane took flight, mowing down several soldiers that tried to block its path. It soared up into the clouds and disappeared from view; a flash of rainbow colours was seen and then, the sound of the plane's engine suddenly ceased as it flew through the time warp, transporting Alan's group back to the 21st century. Vervain turned to look at his master, _"General, where have they gone? You think they'll come back with reinforcements to help their friends?"_

"_That Vervain, is still to be seen,"_ Woundwort replied coldly, _"I suggest we start interrogating our prisoners; surely one of them can be persuaded to answer our questions."_ Sure enough, after a brief celebration, Woundwort had ordered all of the prisoners rounded up, interrogated for any important information they might know, to track down the rest of the escaped outsiders and the Messenger.

In spite of all the interesting information he managed to force out of Holly, Buckthorn, Clover, Bluebell and the others, including how Silverweed was a powerful mind reader and thus another useful asset to him, he couldn't find out where Alan and his companions had fled. Using every method of torture and intimidation he knew, he had continued interrogating them mercilessly over the next few days but hitting dead ends at every turn. Buckthorn was the first to succumb to Woundwort's wrath when he had mocked him during an interrogation session.

Hyzenthlay and Blackavar, who had been identified as the ringleaders of the escapees, were sentenced to public execution, to be made examples of and hopefully diminish any hopes among the other slaves. However, as they taken them out into the Crixa to be slaughtered, Campion, whose secret allegiance to the outsiders had gone unnoticed until that point, had suddenly attacked the guards and the three of them run for their lives. With the log bridge destroyed and the Efrafan Owsla after them, in an act of desperation, they had jumped off the cliffs and somehow made it to the secret tunnel, where McEwen and the others had found them and brought them up to their hideout, to await rescue together.

The Life Memory Journey continued as Alan and Fiver found themselves back on Watership Down, following the Efrafan siege. With the Down now captured by the Efrafan Owsla, Woundwort, Vervain and Robbins, who was now stuck with Woundwort after Alan had escaped with his plane, were making their way into the Honeycomb. Walking past the prisoners that had been rounded-up and slowly being led away, they made their way towards the shaft in the back burrow, where Robbins found the rope and helped the General and Vervain climb down into the HAB.

Following the capture of the outsiders' warren, Woundwort had decided it was time to fulfil the final stage of his ancestor's dream: capture the secrets of humanity's legacy, supposedly buried somewhere in the depths of the HAB beneath the Honeycomb. With Robbins as his guide, they had started a systematic search of the facility; Woundwort, for humanity's secrets, and Robbins, for some means of getting home.

In the control room, Robbins had found Drake's logs and learned the truth about the fate of the world he knew, including Alan's role in bringing down Project Black Inferno, as well as Hemlock's treachery. Woundwort had tried interrogating HAL, demanding that he surrender all of humanity's knowledge to him, but the artificial librarian had nothing to give. Other than the four nitroglycerine canisters Derek had left behind, the place had long since been stripped of anything useful. Giving up the legend of humanity's lost secrets as a myth, Woundwort had decided to change his approach.

After locking up the remaining prisoners below, leaving them to die, and confiscating the nitroglycerine as his spoils of war, Woundwort had announced his triumph over El-ahrairah's legacy. For his share in the taking, Robbins had requested he have Violet's kittens. Woundwort had seemingly agreed, not caring too much about a litter of 'outsider bastards' and allowed Robbins to go back down and retrieve them and also to destroy the HAB, as to eliminate the last remainder of humanity's existence.

After forcibly snatching away Violet's kittens and sabotaging the flood valves to flood the HAB, Robbins had made his way back to the shaft, only to discover the rope had been cut; Woundwort, having no further use for him, had tricked him and sealed him down there to die with the rest of the outsiders. Like McEwen's group, Robbins had suddenly found himself trapped, awaiting a possibly non-existent rescue, until Alan's group had returned a few days later…

The timeline covered, Alan and Fiver were starting to get anxious to return to the world of the living. But instead of feeling themselves return to their physical bodies as they had expected, they saw the heavenly brightness engulf them again, before materialising into yet another scene, one that they were least expecting…

Author's note: The third instalment of the Life Memory Journey is complete! Remember that these memories are from the new timeline; it is almost identical to the original one, minus the role of Project Black Inferno. However if you spot any continuity errors, please mention them in your reviews. The next chapter will be the last instalment of the Life Memory Journey, where Alan and Fiver get to see the future yet to come as well as a terrible realisation. And Woundwort will also make his final appearance… Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	58. Chapter 58 Damnation and Salvation

A new scene materialised around Alan and Fiver; but it wasn't another past memory as they had expected. They were back on Watership Down, outside the entrance to the Honeycomb. A short distance away, Alan noticed the pitched tents they had brought with them from the 21st century, forming a neighbouring campsite to the warren. And it wasn't the only one; located between the two homes, was also a home of sorts for the dead: a small graveyard, bearing several wooden crosses of marked graves. Approaching for a closer look, they saw an inscription carved onto a massive boulder beside the graves:

IN MEMORY OF JAMES MCEWEN, ALAN JOHNSON, BOXWOOD, HAYSTACK, PIMPERNEL, ACORN, SPEEDWELL, BUCKTHORN, NILDROHEIN, BLUEBELL, SILVERWEED AND FIVER, WHO BRAVELY GAVE THEIR LIVES DEFENDING THEIR HOME, WATERSHIP DOWN.

Beside the monument, Alan also the same names engraved on the wooden crosses, one also bearing McEwen's Air Force dog tags, marking the final resting place of the deceased. In an instant, Alan understood what they were seeing.

"This isn't a _memory_; this must be a vision of the _future_," he muttered to his companion at they stared dumbstruck at their own names and those of their dead friends carved onto the monument bearing the list of war casualties. Fiver's eyes were bulging so much in shock, they seemed almost larger than his head.

"But then, why are we _dead_ in this future? Does this mean we never make it back?" he asked in a terrified tone, thinking that something had gone wrong and that they were now trapped in this memory realm forever. But Alan calmed him, "I don't know what this is all about… But I intend to find out. Come, let's see if we can find somebody down below."

Stepping into the Honeycomb, they saw there was a meeting going on. Hazel, Bigwig and Campion stood atop a raised platform, addressing the spectators, including the Watershipers, the Efrafans, as well as Hotdog, Derek and Josie, all of which wore grim and downcast expressions. Hazel looked terribly thin and depressed, with dark shades under his eyes, almost as if in mourning for someone. Alan also noticed Pipkin, who was usually happy and full of life, now a lonely and miserable creature, silently sobbing. But that was nothing compared to Violet who sat alone in the shadows, avoiding the crowd, sobbing her heart out for Bluebell. Her kittens were missing; apparently that the trauma from the death of her mate had caused her to neglect them, leaving them to die. Vervain was nowhere to be seen, and strangely, Lucy too, seemed to be absent.

Taking a few deep breaths to pull himself together, Hazel addressed the crowd, his voice lacking its usual commanding tone, _"Today we are gathered together to honour the memory of our friends who gave their lives to restore peace to our world. Major McEwen died to defeat Woundwort's Owsla in the midst of a desperate battle; Alan died to destroy Woundwort himself and save the rest of us; Fiver…"_ At the mention of his brother, Hazel broke down, chocking up tears of misery, unable to continue his speech. Fiver was about to run up to comfort his brother, only to remember that he and Alan were still invisible, non-existent spectators, unable to interact with anyone in this realm. While Hyzenthlay hurried over to comfort her mate, Campion continued the speech instead.

"_Until quite recently, we lived under the dark rule of General Woundwort, who had smeared our heritage with lies, taken away our freedom and had us all living in fear and misery for a false cause. But then Prince Rainbow bestowed His prophesised Gift upon our world, resurrecting the legacy of El-ahrairah, our true heritage. Thanks to the courage and sacrifice of Alan, McEwen, Acorn, Speedwell, Buckthorn, Bluebell, Silverweed and Fiver, we have finally reclaimed our freedom and as of today, we start a new life!"_ The dawn of a new era had begun.

Alan turned to look at Fiver, "I think I understand what this is all about; remember what El-ahrairah said about the Life Memory Journey, aside from showing us our _past_, also helps us unravel the _future_? Well, I believe we're seeing the would-be future, if we had chosen to remain in the Land Beyond Life. The only thing I don't understand is _why_ are we being shown this? We chose to return to the world of the living. So why…?" Before he could make any further inquiries about this future without them however, the scene shifted to another, set even further in the future; one which made their blood chill instantly.

They were still inside the Honeycomb but it was no longer full of life; the chamber was dark, silent and coated in dusty cobwebs, seemingly deserted for years. Glancing at the entrance, Alan saw the run had been filled in with earth, completely sealed up. The warren resembled an abandoned house, whose inhabitants had either died or moved out long ago. Then suddenly, Alan realised, there was light coming in from somewhere; the shaft that led down to the HAB had artificial light coming from its depths.

Grabbing hold of the rope ladder that hung over the edge of the shaft, the two Life Memory Travellers climbed down into the HAB. The water had since been drained and some of the lights were burning, indicating that someone definitely lived here. They walked down the corridor to the atrium, which smelled strongly of rot and mildew, and up to the control room. There they found the only inhabitants, or rather refuges, that still occupied the place.

An aged Derek, Josie and Hotdog sat around the control room, looking dirty, unkempt, and starved in appearance; it was obvious that life wasn't treating them well at all. Alan also noticed two rabbits were present as well; he gasped as he recognised Bigwig and Pipkin, both looking in such bad shape, they were barely recognisable. Bigwig, once the muscular well-built veteran, was now skeletally thin with his patch of fur between his ears having long since fallen away from, what appeared to be, starvation and poor health. Pipkin too, although significantly older that what Alan remembered him, had grown even smaller and weaker in size, with his childish chubbiness replaced with a skinny, frail body, like a monkey with rabbit ears. Although they seemed to be in a desperate situation, Alan's old friends appeared almost relaxed, as if accepting their miserable fate…

Sure enough, Derek finished setting some of the controls on the reactor panel and turned to his companions, _"That's it; I have bypassed the safety shutdown mechanism and activated the coolant drainage. The reactor should go into meltdown in approximately 10 minutes."_

_"And we finally get to escape this wretched life,"_ Josie said grimly, pulling back her unkempt, dirty hair, _"Such irony; we worked so hard to resurrect Drake's legacy, only to suffer the same fate in the end. Alan's sacrifice was in vain…"_ She uttered a sob at the mention of Alan's name.

"_Well, what did you expect? Ever since Fiver's death, Hazel had lost his old self, making him a sloppy leader. No wonder he was assassinated so easily with poor Hyzenthlay at his side, who chose to join him in death; just like Violet, she took her own life, unable to bear the pain of losing her mate. After the fall of Vleflain and with Woundwort's former subjects siding with the enemy, that evil brute finally revealed himself and announced his takeover, with us completely unprepared to resist him. All our efforts to resurrect our Prince's legacy only brought upon us our own destruction!"_

_"Yet you remained on our side all this time, while most of the others deserted our side, or died fighting the enemy,"_ Josie said, patting Bigwig over his slowly balding head in gratitude. The once-mighty veteran gave a weak chuckle,_ "I owed it to Hazel; he would have wanted me to look out for all of us till the end, grim as it may have turned out…"_

_"And I don't regret fighting on your side until the end," _Pipkin said, his voice sounding deeper now since he was older, _"During the short time I knew him, Alan was like the father I never had; he helped me confront my own demons. I don't fear our fate, no more that you do Bigwig-rah; the only thing that makes me feel so miserable is that Alan died in vain; we never got the peaceful life he wanted to share with us. Now we have nothing left but to join Alan in death just like poor Fiver did so long ago. Perhaps they'll be waiting for us in the Land Beyond Life so we can finally be the big happy family he so much wanted."_

Suddenly, a hissing noise sounded through the deserted HAB; the sabotaged reactor shielding was about to yield to the excessive temperature caused by the loss of coolant. Sure enough, Derek consulted his watch and then the reactor controls, which were flashing red warning lights, _"One minute to go chaps. Let us pray."_ They stood in a circle, holding each other's hands and paws, the humans chanting the Serenity Prayer, while the rabbits chanted _My heart has joined the Thousand_ in Lapine. As they finished, Hotdog found the inspiration to crack a last joke.

_"Christians say if you don't believe in Christ you go to Hell; Jews say if you do believe in Jesus you go to Hell; Catholics say if you don't believe in the Pope you go to Hell; Muslims say if you don't believe in Allah you go to Hell. And you fellas,"_ he said, gesturing at Bigwig and Pipkin, _"You say if you don't believe in Frith, the Black Rabbit of Inle takes you to the realm Elil-rah. Either way we look at it, we're all up shit creek."_ The others stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting out laughing; the last laugh they would ever share together.

Suddenly a vibration shook the floor; the reactor was going into meltdown, unleashing a lethal wave of radiation throughout the facility. Sure enough, the electrics around them started to fail, while every metal component in sight begun to spark wildly, as if placed in a microwave oven. Derek, Josie, Hotdog, Bigwig and Pipkin started sweating and their skin blistering, as the rapidly intensifying radiation swept the HAB. Alan and Fiver, invisible and immune to the danger, watched in horror as their friends were instantly incinerated alive, the radiation causing their flesh to burn up before it dropped from their charred bones like charcoal dust. They had a second to register the fact that their friends had committed suicide to escape the misery of this dark future that had fallen upon the world, before the scene vanished and they were gone.

Still in a state of shock from seeing their friends take their own lives and the realisation that the rest of their friends were apparently dead as well, the two Life Memory Travellers saw another horrific scene materialise around them: As Alan tried to take a deep breath to calm himself from the horror of the previous scene, he burst into a fit of coughs along with Fiver; the air around them was thick with toxic fumes. Staring through the greyish mist surrounding them, they spotted old headstones scattered all around, as well as a ruined church nearby; they were back in Newtown Churchyard close to Cowslip's warren.

Now that they were out in the open, Alan and Fiver felt their blood turn cold as they saw what the beautiful world of the future had been reduced to; a desolate wasteland infested with debris, dead vegetation, the skeletal remains of animals and polluted with toxic fumes that gave the air an awful odour, stretched out to the horizon. All the forests, meadows and orchards Alan had seen during his initial arrival were long gone, from what appeared to have been, a catastrophic war.

Suddenly, they became aware that they weren't alone; standing against the blood-red evening sky on a nearby hill were several figures; two rabbits and two humans. Moving closer for a better look, Alan felt his blood boil as he recognised the two rabbits: Vervain, looking aged but with his chilling sneer wider than ever on his face, a sign that he was extremely pleased. Beside him stood none other than Cowslip, also looking older and even larger than what Alan remembered him but with his sickly sweet smile pasted firmly on his face; just like Vervain, he was extremely pleased with something. As Alan turned to stare at the two humans, he gasped in shock as he recognised their faces.

The first one was a man in his mid-fifties with straw-coloured hair that was starting to turn grey with age, yet his sneering face was unmistakable. Alan and Fiver gasped in shock as they recognised the man who had brought about this dark future; Russell Robbins stood alive before them! Their old nemesis, who had survived the destruction of Efrafa, had secretly assembled an army before returning to wage his own war of conquest, using all of humanity's power against the rabbits of the future. Alan turned to stare at Robbins' companion, only to encounter an ever greater shock: a young woman in her late-twenties with dark reddish hair and hazel eyes just like Alan's; he felt his insides turn cold as he recognised his now-grown daughter Lucy, who, after being left a complete orphan when Alan had died, with no one else to turn to, had become another of Robbins' minions.

Turning to look at what they were staring at, Alan and Fiver saw a mass grave before them. The two Life Memory Travellers gasped in shock as they recognised the battered, broken, starved and semi-mutilated bodies of the rest of their friends lying rotting amidst the hundreds of dead rabbits that had died in slavery or on the battlefield; Holly, Silver, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Blackberry, Strawberry, Thethuthinnang, Vilthuril, Nelthilta and Blackavar lay in death before them, while two mean-looking rabbits, apparently more of Robbins' minions, filled in the grave. Alan's breath stuck in his throat as he recognised none other than…

"Speedwell? Buckthorn?" they both shouted out aloud in unison as he recognised two of his supposedly dead friends, "No, it can't be! We saw them both die, and we saw them in the land beyond life too! How is it possible…?" Alan then suddenly became aware that the twins, in contrast to everyone else, who had aged in this future scene, looked hardly older than what Alan remembered them. As they approached them, to listen in to their conversation, the mystery was instantly solved.

_"Some action we saw today, eh brother?"_ cackled one of the bucks in sickly pleasure, _"The last members of the Watership Down Resistance have finally fallen; such a pity our father was one of those traitors who supported El-ahrairah's legacy. Such a disgrace to our high status among Robbins-rah's ranks. Still, General Vervain and Minister of Propaganda Cowslip have always been the Emperor's most trusted lieutenants because of their history of loyalty to the late General Woundwort, our Emperor's predecessor."_

"_I hear Vervain is getting old; perhaps one of us will replace him as General one of these days, when the Black Rabbit takes him. The Head of Owslafa Lucy has promised us a promotion for our many years of loyal service. We're his finest Owsla soldiers after all and no thanks to our parents; our father was a traitor to our race, our mother surrendered to the Black Rabbit like a coward and our two siblings chose to side with the losing side. We, on the other hand, have taken giant steps in our grant future…" _At those words, Alan realised what they were seeing.

"These two are Violet's kittens who, like Lucy, became Robbins' minions after their widowed mother committed suicide out of grief for Bluebell's death!" he gasped, staring at the evil-turned bucks, who resembled their father's deceased cousins through the family gene pool.

With the mass grave filled in, the two soldiers rejoined their master and his key officers, to return to their headquarters. Sending his minions up ahead, Robbins paused for a moment as he turned to stare at a familiar pair of old tombstones; Alan and Derek's decoy graves that had been set there after they had supposedly died in 2012 (Robbins' own tombstone had since been removed, probably by Robbins himself). Kneeling before Alan's headstone, he took out an old rusting knife and planted it at the foot of the grave, as if in a gesture of triumph. By this time, Alan couldn't help but notice that his nemesis' once oily-black hair had inexplicably turned straw-coloured behind its greying from old age and that the old knife was in fact his own trusty Commando knife, which he had lost during his first confrontation with Woundwort in another reality. What was all this about?

"_Such irony… Remember all those years ago when I was your pitiful lapdog, while you, Deke and Hotdog, were supposedly my friends? Ha! You stole my life away, but justice has granted me the last laugh! You hear me AJ? I have achieved more than you, or Sergey, or even Woundwort could ever give me! And all thanks to you!"_ At these words, the final piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place; the answer was unbelievable, yet obvious.

"No! It can't be _him_! But it is… ROBBINS HAS BEEN _FIELDS_ ALL ALONG!" Alan cried out loud, as everything finally became clear; Robbins' inexplicable hatred of him and the reason for his interest in Lucy stemmed from the fact that he was his presumed-long-dead friend Ronald Fields, bend on revenge for what, he believed, Alan had stolen to him. Because Alan had never made amends with Fields all those years ago, the traumatised boy, after abandoning their friendship, had sunk so deep into hatred and evil, he had merged into the murderous avenger Russell Robbins, whose single purpose in life was to destroy everything associated with his former friend who had 'betrayed' him; Alan's family, the Watership Down rabbits, everything that brought happiness into his life. At this thought, another awful realisation hit the Life Memory Traveller.

"So _I_ am the cause of all of this; this dark future is all _my _fault! I literally paved the path for Robbins to continue the destruction of everything I held dear! The Threarah was right after all; I _am_ the foretold instrument of destruction he so much feared!" Alan sunk to his knees, clutching his hair in agony. The evil man that he himself had unknowingly created by his own past mistakes had brought about the doom of this world. His sacrifice to destroy Woundwort had only resulted in leaving his friends undefended against another enemy he had overlooked.

Cursing himself in self-hatred at this awful realisation, wishing he had never been born, he instinctively reached out to grab his knife planted on the foot of his grave; to his surprise, it wasn't an optical illusion like everything else in this memory realm. He felt his hand clutch the handle firmly and the blade came out of the ground easily…

But as he held the knife in his hand, he suddenly heard Fiver gasp in fear beside him. He spun round, only to come face-to-face with a massive, jet-black rabbit with glowing, pupilless red eyes. The creature seemed almost weightless, as it hovered, rather than stood, like a phantom before them; they were staring straight into the face of the Black Rabbit of Inle. Although there was no expression of aggression in the creature's blank features, the cold and emptiness associated with death radiated off the advancing grim ripper.

Alan had a second to comprehend the fact that the Black Rabbit wasn't part of the memory realm but very real, when he felt the ground start to vibrate beneath him. Looking behind him, he saw, with a gasp of horror, his own grave opening up like a giant mouth, as if to receive him! He and Fiver stared into a dark, bottomless pit, which had materialised at the foot of the headstone.

As they tried to move away to avoid the rim of the black abyss, the Black Rabbit raised its forepaws and gave them a shove. The touch was unlike anything Alan had ever experienced before; he felt as if the blood in his veins had suddenly frozen solid; a loud moan told him the same thing was also happening to Fiver. Losing his balance, he staggered and fell over the edge of the pit, plummeting to the depths of his bottomless grave, Fiver alongside him.

Where there should have been a bottom to the pit, where the coffin supposedly rested, there was nothing but emptiness; the shaft didn't even have walls; they kept falling through complete darkness, deeper and deeper into an endless black abyss. They were falling through the Realm of Chaos, the realm between the world of the living and that of the dead, just like described in the epic poem by John Milton. Alan had a moment to realise that his guilt from the realisation of Fields and his role in the rise of this dark future had interrupted the Life Memory Journey, just as El-ahrairah had warned them, before the falling sensation became too overwhelming and he knew no more…

After what seemed like an eternity, Alan opened his eyes to an awful change; he was lying inside a coffin-shaped crater, in some sort of vast cavern. He could vaguely make out the roof of the cave, which seemed to tower miles above his head, lined with countless of stalactites and stalagmites, which resembled fangs. Although there wasn't a single patch of sky in sight, a magma-like glow filled the place, coming from the blood-red cavern walls. Blood, rather than water, dripped from the stalactites, the stuffy air that filled this place smelling strongly of rot and death, like a mausoleum. Hydrothermal vents covered the floor, emitting random bursts of bubbling magma vapours from their depths.

Staring above his head, he noticed a black tombstone with an upside-down cross, the symbol of Satan, carved on it. A sinister inscription, written in what looked like dry blood, read:

REST IN HELL

ALAN JOHNSON

HA! HA! HA!

Shakily getting to his feet, he saw he was alone; Fiver was nowhere to be seen. Then he realised, he still had his knife clutched in his hand, which had fallen down there with him. He noticed that the usually gleaming steel knife had mysteriously turned jet-black and emitting a faint reddish glow, like the body of a demon. But _where_ was here? Why had the Black Rabbit send him here, to this god-forsaken place? Was this sinister hellhole part of the Life Memory Journey? As he looked around for a way out, he heard a sinister voice that echoed loudly throughout the cavern.

"So, we finally meet, Dr Johnson! Turning, he saw a fat old man with a bushy beard, smiling maliciously at him, apparently expecting his arrival. His eyes narrowed to slits as he recognised an old foe of his, one he had only met briefly on his deathbed.

"Sergey Petrograd? What the hell are _you_ doing here?" he asked coldly as he stared at the former leader of the Red Hand Brotherhood, who smiled sickly at the newcomer in a very Cowslip-like way.

"I heard of your arrival and I thought I'd come to greet an old enemy and escort you to the arena," the infamous terrorist said, pointing the way down a dark, coffin-shaped tunnel. Although Alan didn't trust his host any more than he trusted Robbins or Woundwort, he realised he had no choice, if he wanted to find out where he was, where Fiver was, and how to get out of here. He followed Sergey down the tunnel, trying not to look at the walls, which were lined with thousands of twitching corpses, embedded alive in the rock. Struggling frantically to maintain his cool, he turned to his host.

"Where is my friend? What is all this about? Why am I here? And just where the hell is _here_?" Sergey turned to Alan and spoke in a sickly-sweet voice, "I would have thought the destination was obvious. As for your runt friend, well, let's just say, he has his own life's mistakes to live up to…as far as living goes when you're dead and condemned that is!" Alan paled at these words.

"You're telling me I am dead and in _hell_?" Sergey chuckled evilly as he turned to stare at Alan, "Now you're starting to get the picture my friend; indeed, you're dead as a coffin nail and condemned as the greatest sinner to have ever lived!"

"No more than you anyway pal," replied Alan coldly, nearly losing his head from what was happening to him. He was trapped in _Hell_? What was going to happen to him now? Sergey's expression turned grim.

"As much as I am flattered by your words Dr Johnson, I beg to differ; I am a _saint_ in comparison to you. My activities in life failed to impress Lucifer and make me his favourite in the afterlife, after you and my traitorous son destroyed my life's work. _Your_ mistakes, on the other hand, although unintentional, were ever so pleasing to Lord Elil-rah, given that you unknowingly fulfilled his eternal dream of bringing death and destruction upon the living, that he wishes you to be his personal aid. A singular honour; your new duties will be to command the Demons of Man to torture and torment the weak and the misled who have fallen prey to sin in life and are now rotting down here for eternity!"

"There is no bloody way I will be torturing anybody!" Alan hissed with what little courage he had left, tempted to lash out at Sergey with his knife. The man only chuckled nastily, "Merciful, even in death… how very touching. Unfortunately, neither Satan nor Elil-rah appreciate weakness and everything that goes with it. Which reminds me, you still have a weary challenge to face before earning your place here; one even the bravest of men would yield to…"

Fiver slowly opened his eyes, his insides instantly turning cold as he took in his sinister surroundings; he was lying on the stone-cold floor of some vast dark cavern. Staring around him, he could see lakes of boiling blood, in which groups of semi-mutilated rabbits, all restrained with snares around their necks, lay struggling and screaming in eternal agony. Their eyes were milk-white and their noses swollen, indicating that they were infected with White Blindness, their bodies skeletally thin and furless from malnutrition and ghastly injuries. Many of them seemed to be engaging in cannibalism and self-mutilation, possibly from having turned insane after being trapped in this realm for too long. Barbed wire surrounded their enclosures as those miserable creatures stared blankly back at Fiver.

Through the surrounding darkness, the terrified buck suddenly noticed the gleaming pairs of eyes of thousands of elil lurking nearby; their evil cackling, combined with the agonising moaning of the eternally condemned, made Fiver fight the urge to be sick, as he desperately looked for a way out of this nightmare. Suddenly, a sinister voice caught his attention, "We meet again Hrair-roo."

Fiver spun round and saw none other than Mallow, the evil Efrafan officer who had previously attacked him and Pipkin, only to be killed by Alan. The evil rabbit now had blood-red eyes like those of the Black Rabbit, only more sinister and bearing a murderous expression, as he advanced on Fiver. With a twinge of fear, the seer noticed more menacing figures emerging from the shadows, surrounding him; several others of the most corrupt Efrafans, the homba that had tried to kill him back at Sandleford, the hawk that had attacked Violet, the hound that had almost killed Hazel and Alan, among many other familiar past enemies.

Fiver turned, trying to run, when snares sprang from the ground, immobilising his legs and neck in painful nooses, followed by razor-sharp thorns that sprouted beneath him, impaling his paws as he struggled to stay upright to be avoid been stabbed in the torso as well. The menacing crowd glared at their helpless, soon-to-be victim.

"Because of you and your human friend, I am trapped here forever; but now, I am about to have my revenge!" growled Mallow menacingly, "Your pathetic human protector is no longer here to help you anymore; he has his own fears and regrets to torture and torment him for the rest of eternity!" Without another word, he cuffed Fiver hard across the face, causing blood to spill. The hawk viciously grabbed hold of Fiver's left ear, ripping it to shreds. The hound sunk its jaws into Fiver's leg, instantly breaking the tibia. Overwhelmed with torturous pain and maddening fear, Fiver felt himself sink into unconsciousness as his and Alan's fallen enemies ripped him to pieces…

Sergey led Alan through a maze of dark tunnels. Walking as if in a trance, the man could hear the chilling moans and screams of those condemned to eternal damnation in this hellish realm all around him. As Sergey gestured into the opening of another tunnel, one that was shaped like the mouth of a Moloch, he paused to give Alan a final briefing.

"Oh, I almost forgot…" he said in a sickly sweet tone, "Like I said, all those who pass on into hell, must first undergo a test to determine their place here. Those who embrace evil and sin without any remorse for their actions in life, become demons after death; the highest honour Satan or Elil-rah could bestow upon a damned soul. Weaklings or the misled, on the other hand, who embrace sin out of foolishness or misdirection in life, join those in eternal damnation. Your test will be to face the _embodiment_ of your own fears and regrets; if you succeed, you get Elil-rah's promised promotion. If you lose…well, need I say more? Oh, and by the way, I believe your tester won't be a complete stranger to you."

Before Alan could break out of his stupor and inquire further, the Moloch mouth closed, separating him from Sergey, who shot a final nasty smirk back at him; whatever this challenge was, it definitely wouldn't be pleasant. Walking down some stone steps in complete darkness, clutching his knife, he came to another opening; stepping out of another Moloch-mouth-shaped opening, he found himself in some sort of massive arena, similar to the Coliseum in ancient Rome.

High walls surrounded the arena, forming an enclosure around him. The walls were engraved with the outlines of seven sinister-looking figures; they were the Seven Deadly Sins, including Wrath, Greed, Sloth, Pride, Lust, Envy and Gluttony, which plagued human nature in the world of the living, now virtues in this hellish realm of death. At the foot of the wall, he could see the outline of a moat filled with molten lava, circling the arena; the place where the losers of the 'test' were apparently thrown in to burn for eternity, judging by the howls of agony coming from its depths.

Beyond the enclosure wall were black stone stands, currently occupied by, what appeared to be, other residents of this realm. Alan could recognise many familiar faces of former enemies, who had undoubtedly come to witness his demise (as far as demise goes when you're already dead), including members of the Red Hand Brotherhood, the dishonest Efrafans that had perished during the battle of Efrafa, among other enemies Alan had made and defeated in life.

At the centre of the arena stood some sinister black statues on a pedestal, forming a circle: they were the Fallen Angels, biblical representatives the Sins, including Lucifer, Beelzebub, Mammon, Asmodeus, Leviathan, Belphegor and Satan. Finally, standing in the centre of the circle, was a monstrous creature beyond anything Alan had ever imagined. It had demonic black fur with the hinge legs of a horse, forelegs of a lion, a cobra-ended tail and an upper body with five heads projecting from a single furry neck, including a wolf, a spider, a crow, a goat and a human skull; the satanic figure of the Lapine afterlife, Elil-rah himself, stood in the centre. And lying between the statue's legs was…

"Fiver!" Alan gasped, rushing forward, cringing at the sight of the battered and viciously maimed body of his little friend. Although Fiver wasn't dead since they were technically both in the afterlife, he saw that his little friend had taken quite a beating, no doubt by other past enemies that had come to greet him. He felt his blood boil in anger as he noticed that Fiver had both his eyes missing; where the buck's loving reddish eyes, which penetrated the soul, once were, now there were just empty bloodied sockets.

He tried to reach him, but found the statues of the Fallen Angels, red-hot to the touch, formed a barrier around Fiver, like a cage, putting him just beyond Alan's reach. Suddenly, a chilling laugh caught his attention and he heard the spectators start to jeer excitedly at his predicament; turning round, he saw his 'tester' had arrived. The sight that made his blood chill in renewed horror.

"You?"

Standing behind him was none other than the former dictator of Efrafa himself, with the most horrific appearance Alan had ever seen before; Woundwort's black fur was gone, leaving all the veins underneath his mutilated hide visible. Deep scars covered every inch of his deformed body, with faint flames emitting from them, almost as if the creature had a hellish soul. Even the dictator's eyes had changed; where there had once been a blind milk-white eye and a glaring red one, now were a pair of healthy, reddish brown ones; Woundwort had taken Fiver's eyes for himself. "We meet again, Time Traveller."

"What the hell have you done to him you bastard?" Alan snarled, glaring at Woundwort, "And what have you done to _yourself_?" he added, cringing at the sight of the grotesque mutilation decorating Woundwort's body. The evil rabbit smiled nastily, displaying no signs of pain.

"These are the scars of honour and power I bear; all the killings and conquests I accomplished in life, in the name of Lord Elil-rah, are marked on my soul. However I, in contrast to you, who can't bear the burden of evil on your conscience, acted without fear or regret, so the wounds of my sins don't pain me. Instead, they only make me _stronger_ in this realm, giving me control over the powers bestowed upon me by Lord Elil-rah himself!"

Losing patience, Alan suddenly sprang at Woundwort, slashing him hard across the chest with his knife; but, to his utmost amazement, no fresh wound appeared on Woundwort's already mutilated flesh. Instead, a new cry of pain from Fiver caught his attention and he turned, only to see the knife gash, which should have appeared on Woundwort, appear on _Fiver_ instead! The already maimed buck was moaning in pain from the new wound cut deep into his skin, further increasing his suffering. Alan, about to be sick at what he had just done, turned to stare at Woundwort, who calmly stood his ground, enjoying the sight.

"Impressive isn't it, ithe? Any sin you commit here instantly reverts back to _you_ full force; only, because that little runt is your heart-brother who ever so nobly came here to save you, _he_ gets to feel your pain instead. You should consider yourself lucky; I daresay, the pain of your sins wouldn't take long to drive a weak fool like you to madness here. Allow me to show you; my Lord Elil-rah was ever so kind as to unlock my ancestor's gift, which Frith denied me at birth…" Woundwort's (or rather Fiver's) eyes glowed red as they locked contact with Alan's; instantly, the man felt the familiar unpleasant sensation of mind-penetration; only this time it was hell on earth unleashed before his eyes.

Alan's parents and brother stood before him, looking at him with expressions of disappointment, _"You caused our deaths Alan. Royce was right; we should never have had a second son!"_ shrieked Susan Johnson while Jack Johnson and his brother Royce refused to even look at him. Father Herbert looked at him sadly, _"You let your own brother walk out of your life and die; may God forgive you."_ Mary and Lucy drew away from him, _"I loved Ron more than I ever did you; he ended my misery by killing me. I wish I had never met you, you bastard!"_ Lucy spat at her father with an expression of hatred Alan had never seen before, _"Fields was a father to me, much more than you ever were. I hate you!"_ Derek and Hotdog, their faces red with fury, cracked their knuckles menacingly, _"You led us to our deaths for nothing; we should have listened to Fields and severed our friendship with you when you betrayed him, you selfish scum! May you rot in hell!" _Josie glared at him, _"You got my husband killed and you say you love me? You make me sick!"_ Major McEwen swung his fist at his face, _"You tried to steal my wife away after I died fighting your battle? Selfish bastard!" _The Watership Down rabbits, along with the Sandlefordians and Efrafans too, all lay slaughtered before him, in a pool of their own blood, _"We trusted you, accepted you into our lives and this is how you repay us, you traitorous scum? The Threarah and Hemlock were right; humans are a curse on our world!"_

Alan moaned in agony as Woundwort continued to ruthlessly torment him with all these horrible hallucinations and manifestations of his past fears and regrets. Seeing Alan was about to break under the strain, the evil rabbit removed the curse, looking thoroughly amused at the sight of Alan moaning and crying in despair on the ground. "You see Time Traveller? You were nothing but a curse upon your own friends and family! Your life was a lie; you are just as much a bringer of doom as I was! Only I had the courage to accept what I was born for and embrace my destiny, while you chose to lie to yourself as well as to your friends and family like a coward!"

"No…Lies…" Alan muttered, struggling to maintain his sanity, as the manifestations of his fears and regrets cleared away, "It's just a hallucination; they aren't dead and they don't hate me…!" The spectators up in the stands, who were jeering and taunting him, fell silent in amazement. Even Woundwort's grotesque smile faded, his face curling into a frown; he didn't expect his nemesis to still be able to resist him.

"Time Traveller, accepting defeat is a virtue I need to teach you before you join the rest of those weaklings in eternal damnation. How about a dose of _physical_ pain?" Before Alan could do anything to defend himself, Woundwort was upon him, clawing and pummelling at him mercilessly. It was pain beyond everything Alan had ever experienced before; his insides were been crushed, his bones shattered and his skin shredded, as the savage rabbit mauled him. He wanted it all to end, to black out, to die; unfortunately, in spite of the pain, he knew that, in this realm, he was beyond the mercy of death, doomed to feel the pain of his wounds for all of eternity. After what seemed like forever, Woundwort ceased his attack and sneered at the bloody mess that was Alan's now broken body.

"Give it up Time Traveller; your fate is at hand. You will never return to the world of the living to save your friends, and there is no one to help you this time. However, since I admire how you maintain your courage to the end, I will make you a final offer: embrace your_ true_ destiny of evil by torturing your runt friend till he breaks and I will persuade Elil-rah in making you a fellow demon like me. We will rule together by Elil-rah's side for eternity; this realm for the strong and the ruthless will be our new domain." Alan, his ribs and collarbones all shattered from Woundwort's attack, still managed to get back on his feet, and spat blood into his foe's face.

"Go to hell, you pathetic cowardly bastard! I challenge you to a duel…_without_ your powers. Unless of course, you haven't got the courage to fight me without them?" Woundwort only sneered in response.

"I accept the challenge; but I should warn you that every blow you strike _me_ with, will instead be felt by the runt. Unless you're willing to condemn your heart-brother to torture and mutilation and earn your place among Elil-rah's ranks as a demon in the process, your weapon, which is marked with the evil and darkness of His power from all the pain it was used to inflict by Robbins, can't hurt me in any way. You can of course refuse to defend yourself while I rip you apart, leaving you to feel the pain of your injuries for eternity." Alan couldn't help but pale; whether he won or lost, things would turn out just as bad. The only option he had left was to just endure all the pain Woundwort would inflict on him like a man, rather than let Fiver endure his suffering instead.

He made up his mind; he would endure all the pain Woundwort would inflict on him and wouldn't strike back, sparing Fiver any further agony that would otherwise rest forever on his conscience. Assuming of course, if he had enough sanity left to actually feel any conscience at all after Woundwort was through with him. Taking a deep breath, he stood, ready to meet his grim fate. The two opponents walked a short distance apart (Alan more like dragged himself from his injuries) and then turned to face each other. Just as Alan was about to shut his eyes and charge at Woundwort, Fiver, who had temporarily recovered enough to speak, called out in a raspy voice from within his entrapment, "Alan…destroy that knife…must destroy the knife…end its dark curse…"

"SILENCE WEAKLING!" roared Woundwort, sending another burst of his mind-penetrating power into Fiver's mind. The seer moaned and curled into a ball of misery as his blindness was suddenly replaced with wild hallucinations of Hazel, his parents and siblings accusing him of being a burden and a disgrace to the family, his friends accusing him of bringing trouble upon them with his sixth sense, Alan mocking him of being weak and always dependant on those stronger than him for protection...

During that moment of distraction, Alan's mind suddenly pieced Fiver and Woundwort's words together; his knife was the _embodiment_ of all the pain and death Robbins had inflicted with it in the physical world, explaining its changed appearance. All those evil atrocities had left its mark on the weapon, consequently marking its true owner, from whom it had been stolen, as the perpetrator. With this cursed weapon in his possession, he and Fiver (who was linked to him as his heart-brother) were _falsely_ marked as evil, who belonged here, in eternal damnation. So if the evil force trapped in the knife was destroyed, then the curse that kept them trapped in this realm should…

Without a second thought, Alan raised his mangled arm and, ignoring the pain, tossed the knife into the moat of molten lava surrounding the arena. As the knife made contact with the sizzling-hot magma, an unearthly scream was heard; the evil inside it was dying. Because the knife was still an artefact of the physical world rather than the spiritual one, heaven or hell alike, the laws of physics still applied to it; the magma was melting the steel blade. The scream died down as the last portion of the knife sizzled and dissolved into nothingness.

For a second there was only silence. Then, suddenly, a bright heavenly light shone from the depths of the moat, right from the spot where the knife has dissolved; the liquid mass of steel was taking a new form. Then something gleaming shot out of the moat, straight into Alan's outstretched hands. His knife had transformed into a cross, made of some spectacular crystalline material that emitted beautiful rainbow colours. He gasped in realisation as he recognised Justin Vannerley's Cross; the holy gadget of the legendary Cross Bearer rested in his palm.

Before Woundwort could strike him again, Alan placed the cross's chain around his neck and leapt forward, touching the tip of the Cross against Woundwort's face. The evil warlord screamed in agony as the Cross sensed the evil within his soul; because he had willingly surrendered his soul to evil, which would have otherwise freed him from his damnation, he couldn't withstand the touch of such a holy gadget. His face started to glow with an unholy red light while Fiver's mutilated eye sockets glowed with a heavenly bright one; in an instant the seer's eyes were restored to their rightful owner, from whom Woundwort had stolen them to initiate his mind-penetrating powers. The evil dictator moaned in frustration as his old eyes reappeared; he had lost his ability to torture minds with his victims' fears and regrets.

"So what are you going to do now, Time Traveller?" he sneered at Alan and Fiver, refusing to lose his swagger, "I know that gadget can't kill me and its powers will soon be overwhelmed by my master's power anyway." Having read the story of _The Cross Bearer_, Alan knew the evil rabbit had a point. According to the legend, the Cross's powers would be quickly weakened in the heart of this dark realm; it wouldn't keep Woundwort at bay for long. Then, remembering what Woundwort had said about his lack of remorse for his sins making him a powerful demon in this realm, Alan realised he still had an advantage on his side: since his and Fiver's _souls_ weren't marked with evil, they could still embrace the holy powers of the Cross and seek salvation; their key to their escape. He turned to Woundwort.

"So you're honoured to have become a demon? Now you've got your wish…and everything else that goes with it!" he hissed before turning and touching the leg of Elil-rah's statue with the tip of the cross. The same unearthly scream he had heard earlier sounded as the statue glowed bright red; the evil entity of Elil-rah couldn't withstand the pure touch. The entire assembly of demon statues glowed bright red, vibrating, before shattering into a thousand pieces. Woundwort, whose powers functioned through his master's dark soul, crumpled to the ground, temporarily stunned. Fiver, finding himself free of his entrapment, limped over to Alan, despite the pain of his own injuries.

Realising they only had a moment before Woundwort would regain consciousness, Alan placed the Cross's chain around Fiver's neck as well as his, "It's time we got out of this nightmare. All right Fiver, I need you to chant the Lapine prayer you use to pray to Frith. I'll do the same with the Serenity Prayer. That should be our best shot." Holding the Cross between them, the two Life Memory Travellers started praying.

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference…" Father Herbert's reciting of the Serenity Prayer played back in Alan's mind, clearer than ever before. At that moment, he noticed Woundwort start to regain consciousness; in another minute he would be upon them and they would be doomed…

"All the World will be your enemy, Prince with A Thousand Enemies. And whenever they catch you, they will kill you…" Fiver chanted, reciting Frith's holy words of El-ahrairah's Blessing, which was the equivalent to the Serenity Prayer in Christianity.

"Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time; Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will…" They watched Woundwort get to his feet, his grotesque red eye narrowed in rage. Barring his savage-like teeth, he braced himself, ready to spring at them…

"But first they much catch you. Digger, Listener, Runner, Prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed!"

"That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him Forever in the next. Amen." Just as Alan uttered the last line, the Cross glowed a bright heavenly light, as their prayers were being answered. The last thing they saw before everything dissolved around them was Woundwort's face contorting with fury as he saw his intended victims escape.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The pain of his injuries instantly evaporated; the arena, the condemned spectators, the statues of Elil-rah and the Fallen Angels, the realm of the damned, everything vanished and he found himself, bodiless again, moving through the bright white light he had been through earlier. The Life Memory Journey was over; Alan and Fiver were going back.

Author's note: The Life Memory Journey is complete! The scenes of hell were inspired from RogueFanKC's _The Cross Bearer_, as well as from John Milton's _Paradise Lost_. The end is close chaps! If you really liked my story and wish to have a sequel, this is the time to start mentioning it. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	59. Chapter 59 An Enemy Still Lives

Soaked, bruised and exhausted, Ronald Fields aka Russell Robbins dragged himself out of the water and onto the bank. After Hotdog had punctured the dingy, leaving him and Vervain to be swallowed up by the river, he had been washed far downstream and almost drowned. Fighting tooth and nail, he had somehow managed to stay afloat for what seemed like hours, until he had found a sandbank and was able to pull himself out of the furious current and swim to shore. Vervain, who had been tangled in the remains of the dingy, had been separated from his new master and seemingly drowned.

Not sparing Vervain a second thought, Robbins curled up for shelter inside a hollow tree trunk on the edge of the woods, to rest and assess his situation. He already knew his original plan of escape was useless; at the first glance of night, he had discovered the warp was gone; there was no returning to the 21st century anymore, with or without his prize. Now his situation could only be described as desperate; marooned in a hostile future world with no way to get home and completely on his own. Despite his misfortune, Robbins was the type who knew that if he wished to survive, he mustn't despair. Even if he was to be marooned here forever, he intended to make some plans.

While taking some time to rest and regain his strength, he furiously worked his mind to determine the appropriate course of action: since he was no longer going back, he had to find some safe place of refuge as soon as possible. And he had to get moving soon for he knew that Alan and his friends wouldn't take long to realise he wasn't dead. They would probably drag the river for his body and, after finding nothing, they would realise he had survived and launch a manhunt for him. By that time, he would have to be as far away from here as possible.

As he rested, he proceeded to take inventory of his belongings; other than his clothes, he had nothing left but Alan's stolen knife still tucked into his pocket. He had no weapons, supplies or equipment of any kind. And the only place to find any now, was his nemesis' safe haven. That would be his first stop.

After dark had fallen, hiding him from any prying eyes, Robbins started his long trek back upstream, towards Watership Down. Although nobody else in his place would have even considered venturing straight back into the enemy's backyard, an enemy which would be after his blood when they realised he was still breathing nonetheless, Robbins knew he had no choice; he had to recapture their aircraft and as much equipment and weapons as he could steal, if he was to make his escape and set up his new headquarters at a safe location. Perhaps he could cross the British Channel into France, away from these giant rabbits and establish his home base somewhere remote, where Alan would never find him, until he was ready to return and wedge war against them.

Remembering all his military and survival training he had received from his old mentor, Robbins set off, following the canyon back upstream. As he neared Efrafa, he heard the noise of a boat's engine coming down the river. Quickly taking cover behind some trees, he saw a motorboat carrying Derek Shaw and three rabbits emerge through the darkness. Was it a search party out hunting for him already?

Crawling on his stomach to avoid detection from the boat's spotlight, he reached the edge of the cliff and watched as the boat neared shore. The spotlight revealed Vervain tangled in the remains of the dingy at the water's edge, drowning. The group seemed to survey Vervain for a few minutes, before helping him out of his entanglement. Robbins could hear them talking but was too far away to make out the conversation. Then he realised that Alan wasn't leading the search party. Where was he? Why wasn't he here, leading the cavalry?

Not wanting to give them a chance to spot him, Robbins silently walked away and continued on his way. As he passed the ruins of the Efrafan Island, he noticed that Buxton Hall had been demolished; that explosion he had heard earlier had been his old boss' headquarters being destroyed. Although a rather heart-breaking sight, since that place had brought back many pleasant memories to him, Robbins couldn't help but wonder, perhaps Alan's peculiar absence meant that something had happened to him?

Staring at the foot of the cliffs, he noticed a pair of overturned pontoons bobbing up in the water close to a sandbank; the plane he had been intending to use to make his escape lay capsized, almost mocking his determination for a new plan. Robbins cursed in frustration; his plans had just hit another dead end. Without the plane, there was no hope of escaping from the British Isles; and with Efrafa and Buxton Hall destroyed, there was nowhere else left to flee…except to Cowslip's warren. That sleek, cowardly brown-nose-in-snot buck was useless in a fight but could at least hide and shelter him until he could plan ahead. He would just have to take his chances with the savages there.

Further upstream, he stumbled across the balloon, lying deflated in a clearing, where Derek had left it before joining the boat group in search of Alan. For an instant, Robbins thought he had found an alternate means of escape, until he realised the fuel tanks were depleted. Frustrated, he continued on his trek and an hour later, finally made it back to Watership Down.

He could see a light coming from the entrance to the Honeycomb beneath the beech tree on top of the hill. Suddenly, he heard the sound of the motorboat returning. Quickly taking cover, he surveyed the canyon and saw the search party returning, having found no other survivors other than Vervain. Hazel, followed by several other rabbits, Hotdog and a young woman, whom Robbins recognised as Alan's former girlfriend Josie Clayton, emerged from the Honeycomb and rushed down to greet them. Careful to remain out of sight, Robbins crept closer, desperate to eavesdrop for information.

"Well, that's it then; we have combed every inch of the river, within a range of three miles from Efrafa. Other than _him_, there are no other survivors…" The rabbits' eyes instantly narrowed in hate, as they recognised Vervain, lying cowering in the bottom of the boat, Blackavar towering over him. Hawkbit broke the silence, "What in Frith's name did you bring _that_ rotter here for? Haven't we got enough riff-raff around here already…?" But Campion's stern glare shut him up, "Sorry, no offence Campion." But for the first time ever, the others didn't give the faintest indication of disapproving with Hawkbit's ranting.

"For once in my life, I totally agree with Hawkbit," Bigwig put in sternly, glaring suspiciously at Vervain, "Why did Derek talk us into saving this little hraka, rather than leaving him to his well-deserved fate, I'll never know." Hazel gave Bigwig a rather disapproving stare, realising that he had considered leaving Vervain to die, yet spoke in a firm voice, "It doesn't matter Bigwig; he can stay here until he's recovered. However…" Hazel said, shifting his attention back to Vervain, "…If he steps out of line once, you may deal with him as you see fit." Bigwig nodded grimly as Hazel continued, "He can stay in Speedwell and Buckthorn's empty burrow; the less time he spends around the others the better. Blackavar, Bigwig and Campion, you can take turns to guard him and escort him outside for silflay, to keep him out of trouble. It won't be long before he can fend for himself again and leave."

While Bigwig, Campion and Blackavar escorted the bewildered Vervain up to the Honeycomb, Hazel called the others for a meeting, "What about Alan? Any sign of him?" Derek held up Alan's discarded spectacles, which they had salvaged from the water, "This is all we could find." Josie gasped in shock and Pipkin began to sob miserably. The others all lowered their heads in sadness at the news.

"Then he's really…gone?" asked Pipkin, holding back tears. When Hazel's group had returned, he had been the first to inquire where Alan was, only to receive the most heartbreaking news he had ever heard since the deaths of his parents. Foreseeing imminent despair and uproar, Hazel had quickly ordered that the news of Alan's death be kept from Lucy for the time being; they would have to explain to her soon or later but for now, they had to focus on other more important priorities. The whole group lowered their heads in a moment of silence for Alan; the only one fighting the urge to dance a jig at the news was Robbins, having overheard everything from the bushes.

His sworn enemy was _dead_ and out of the way, leaving the path clear for him to build his own glorious future in this new world, _his_ new world. And from what he had just heard that long-eared weakling of a leader say, there was an extra bonus to his turned luck: It seemed that when he had returned to the past, Alan had somehow figured out the scam and gotten back his daughter…and delivered her straight into his waiting hands! That girl was the daughter of the only woman he had ever loved until Alan had stolen her away from him; that girl was meant to be _his_ daughter and it would soon be so. He watched as the group of utterly depressed rabbits and humans slowly made their way back to the warren, before making his way down into the canyon, where he remembered seeing the colonists' equipment from the plane.

On the pebbled shore of the river, where the aircraft had been moored only hours ago, was the motorboat he had seen out searching for survivors. Also, some of the colonists' heavier equipment, that Josie hadn't been able to move up the hill on her own, lay in a pile at the water's edge. Robbins immediately started going through the bundles for weapons; to his utmost disappointment, there were no firearms, Hotdog having moved the arsenal up to the Honeycomb for safekeeping. The pile consisted mostly of some heavy odds and ends, including a couple of aqualungs, which Robbins needn't bother with at the moment.

Extending his search on the boat, he found Pete's survival kit, which Derek had salvaged from the wrecked dinghy; unfortunately, the revolver holster was empty. Finally, Robbins found one of the dart guns, which had slipped out of Alan's backpack, lying forgotten on the bottom of the boat. Although it only had two tranquilliser darts left, it would have to do for now, until he could find a better replacement. Taking the survival kit and the gun, he was about to depart, when he suddenly came up with an idea.

He could use the aqualung to swim into that abandoned facility through the sub entry and make his way up into the warren through the elevator shaft, free Vervain, who could be of use to him, and also steal back the girl. Then he also remembered something else very important, which he ought to retrieve while he was here: Dr Drake's journal containing all the details of the origins of this world, among other valuable secrets that could be of use to him. After waiting for a while to ensure nobody came back to interrupt him, Robbins assembled an aqualung and took the plunge, venturing into the semi-flooded HAB.

Meanwhile, inside the Honeycomb, Pipkin sat with Lucy; after Fiver had asked him to keep the girl company while he talked to Silverweed in private, the dwarf buck had wondered off and found Lucy lying awake in the burrow she was sharing with Josie, Derek and Hotdog. The four humans had set up their sleeping bags and camp beds, making the burrow into a cramped, yet comfortable dormitory. The other three had fallen asleep by then, all completely exhausted from the hardships of the battle. But Lucy, tired as she was, couldn't sleep; her father was still absent and no one would even tell her _why_.

Since the scouting party had returned from Efrafa, Lucy had been anxious to see her father again; only her father hadn't shown up! Hazel and Derek had taken her aside and explained that Alan was still out helping round up more survivors and wouldn't return until tomorrow. Although they had admitted that Alan had been hurt during the battle, Lucy knew it had to be something much worse. After being a prisoner to that man Robbins for an entire year and completely on her own, hadn't only toughened up the girl, but also had taught her many useful skills, including how to distinguish truth from lies. And her experience told her that something bad must have happened to her father, which her friends were keeping from her. Her thoughts were cut sort as she saw Pipkin enter.

Since they had met, Lucy had developed an instant fondness for Pipkin, particularly because he was the only one in Hazel's group around the same age as her, which the dwarf rabbit returned with equal fondness. She smiled grimly as Pipkin hopped onto the traveller's bed beside her, looking distraught, "Lucy, I…I have something terrible to tell you…" Although Hazel had forbidden anyone from telling Lucy the truth yet, Pipkin felt he was betraying her trust by keeping her in the dark any longer, "Something terrible has happened to your father."

Lucy felt her insides twist up as Pipkin told her everything Hazel and the others had told him about what had happened, "I am so sorry Lucy; he was a father to me as much he was to you. Why should Frith do this to us? Why take him away from us now?" he asked, alligator tears rolling down his face. But Lucy wasn't giving up so easily.

"No, my dad is not the type to break his promise; he said he would definitely come back, so he has to still be alive!" she said with fierce determination. After a year of being able to maintain hope of seeing her parents again, there was no way she was going to give up now, "And if the others are not going to do anything about it, then I will just have to find him myself!" Pipkin, who had been trying to hold back more tears of grief, gasped in shock.

"What? Lucy, you can't go out there! There're elil and… But wait…" he said, suddenly remembering Fiver's meeting with Silverweed. Having known Fiver all his life, he knew his childhood friend would never keep any secrets from him, unless it was something really important. Adding the fact that Fiver's original view of Silverweed had been anything but positive, made Pipkin realise it had to be something about Alan; what else would Fiver want to discuss with a mystic whom he initially totally distrusted?

"Lucy, I think Fiver knows something; he is talking with Silverweed right now. Maybe they can help us…" At these words, Lucy, remembering Silverweed's mind-penetrating powers and Fiver's far sight, pieced everything together: Fiver must have had some vision of her father's whereabouts and had gone to ask Silverweed to help him interpret it. As if on queue, they turned and saw Silverweed and Fiver pass silently outside their burrow, heading for the exit run. Lucy and Pipkin looked at each other, "Let's follow them. Come on!"

"By ourselves? Shouldn't we wake Hazel-rah or Bigwig first?" Pipkin asked uneasily. Although Lucy knew all too well that venturing outside in the dead of night with Pipkin was dangerous and they might both get disciplined for reckless behaviour, she didn't want to alert anyone else at this moment. Not only would they demand explanations, but they might also try and stop them. She shook her head to her 'brother', "No, they'll hold us up. Come on, or we'll lose them." Picking up a flashlight and a pocket knife, they noiselessly made their way through the crowded Honeycomb, which had been converted to a mass dormitory for the Efrafans, following Fiver and Silverweed at a safe distance.

Meanwhile, Robbins, carrying Dr Drake's resealed time capsule under his arm, cautiously made his way up the rope and into the Honeycomb. So far, everything was going like clockwork; he had managed to sneak into the HAB without encountering any problems and had found Drake's time capsule containing the scientist's precious journals exactly where he had left it in the control room. After sealing everything back in the airtight case for safe transport, he had made his way to the shaft and found that the rope Alan's party had used was still there, granting him access to the warren above.

Quiet as a cat, he made his way down the twisting aisle that run down the length of the sleeping burrows, looking for his prize. Suddenly, his foot kicked something soft and furry curled up on the floor outside a burrow, which, in the semi-darkness, he mistook for a massive sack of potatoes. His heart skipped a beat as the 'sack of potatoes' groaned and stirred; Robbins had accidentally bumped into a sleeping Blackavar, awakening him in the process. Robbins felt his insides run cold; in an instant, the entire warren would be upon him and then it would all be over. But before the mutilated buck could do anything, another attacker tackled him from behind, giving Robbins the opportunity to draw the dart gun from his belt and shoot him in the neck, instantly knocking him unconscious.

Robbins sighed in relief as Vervain emerged from the burrow Blackavar had been guarding; apparently he had been waiting for a chance to attack his guard and escape but was too cowardly to risk a direct attack on an opponent twice his size and strength, although Blackavar had been asleep. Robbins' unexpected arrival had given him the opportunity and had also indirectly saved his rescuer from being discovered. Vervain gaped at Robbins who nodded curtly back to his associate, "Doesn't _anything_ kill you ithe?"

"No more than you pal," Robbins replied smugly, "Are there any other guards stationed around here?"

"Only one lookout outside; I overheard that oaf Thlayli talking about it. How did you get in?" Robbins ignored the question as he spotted another burrow that had artificial light coming from inside; the burrow that the humans were using as their new sleeping quarters had power lanterns burning. If they were all asleep and there were no other guards around to disturb him, then this may be his chance to steal back Lucy, before making his escape with Vervain. His turned to his associate, whispering, "Go wait by the edge of the hole in the back burrow; I have one last little thing to do before we depart."

"But shouldn't we be running for our lives…Robbins-rah?" Vervain hissed, stressing the title; accepting a _human_ as his new leader was really difficult to cope with. However, although fiercely defensive of his pride, his ambition for a life of power was stronger. Without answering, Robbins made his way towards the burrow. Chancing a peak, he saw, to his utmost dismay, Lucy wasn't there; an empty camp bed beside those of Derek, Josie and Hotdog testified to her absence. Robbins was tempted to venture deeper into the warren to find her but knew that this would be pushing his luck too far; he had been lucky to make it this far without being discovered. No, the girl could wait; for now, he and his associate needed to get as far away from here as possible and find a safe refuge.

Noiselessly, he made his way back to Vervain, who was waiting, anxious to leave before someone discovered he had escaped; as far as he was concerned, he would be dead meat to the outsiders if they caught him now, Hazel-rah's warning fresh in his mind. In his anxiety, he accidentally knocked a stone over the edge of the shaft; it echoed loudly as it landed in the flooded passage below with a loud splash. Robbins turned to glare at Vervain for his clumsiness, before gesturing to him to climb onto his shoulders, so they could climb down. As they slid down the rope, Robbins heard Bigwig's stern voice calling down the run, "Who's there?"

Meanwhile, Lucy and Pipkin ventured outside and into the night. Luckily, they found Hawkbit had drifted off to sleep and didn't see them go; silently walking past him, they made their way down the southern side of the Down, heading towards the river. Before leaving, Lucy had nicked the key for the motorboat's engine, intent on taking the boat downstream, to renew the search; they had seen Fiver and Silverweed follow the river downstream on foot but after hearing Pipkin's explanation of what had happened to her father, Lucy had figured a search by boat would be more likely to yield any results.

Suddenly, the duo became aware that someone else was already standing on the shore by the boat; the outline of a human was clearly visible against the moonlight's reflection in the river. Without considering the possibility that it might be an enemy, Lucy and Pipkin broke into a run, heading straight towards 'her father', "Daddy! I knew you'd come back! We…"

"Oh Alan, thank Frith and all Prince Rainbow's messengers! I knew you had to be alive…" Both of them froze in mid-sentence as Lucy's flashlight shone upon the figure's face, revealing the startled yet sneering face of Robbins. Lucy and Pipkin both froze in shock.

"Well, hallo to you too," Robbins said with a smile so wide, it looked as if the ends of his mouth were touching his ears, "Come and greet your _true_ Dad sweetheart? I am impressed." Before neither Lucy nor Pipkin could move a step away, Robbins raised the dart gun and shot Lucy in the abdomen; the girl gave a groan and collapsed to the ground unconscious, as the drug instantly took effect. Pipkin stood petrified for an instant, before turning to flee, only to be forcibly pinned to the ground by a soaked Vervain, who had just emerged from the water behind Robbins.

"Well, looks like our luck has finally taken a change for the better; two birds with one stone and absolutely no effort needed!" He turned to sneer at Pipkin, whom Vervain was forcibly pinning to the ground, nearly suffocating him in the process, "So what do we do with this worthless pygmy, Robbins-rah? Should we kill him now or use him as a hostage?" asked Vervain.

"No, he would be too much of a burden; the best we can do is kill him now so we can make our escape without a hassle. They'll wake up in the morning, wondering what happened to him and the girl; we'll be long gone by then." He turned to look at Pipkin, "I have no interest in this runt. I remember you told me you wanted the pleasure of killing him yourself. Well, I won't deprive you of that pleasure; just be quick about it and then we're out of here." He walked over to the horses that were tethered to a nearby tree and untied the reigns of one. After binding and gagging Lucy so she wouldn't try to escape when the anaesthetic wore off, he secured her on the back of the horse along with Drake's case.

Although Vervain seemed delighted at the prospect of killing the closest friend of his worst enemy, he hesitated; he had never killed in cold blood before. Although he had spent a lifetime _ordering_ others tortured or killed for his own amusement, he had never actually committed murder himself and now that he had this dwarf runt completely at his mercy, he couldn't master the courage to do it. He felt his insides coil up in anticipation, his paw quivering, as he struggled to make up his mind; one strong blow over the head and the runt would be dead, but on the other hand, killing in cold blood felt too much even for his sickly conscience. Robbins noticed his partner's hesitation and frowned; he didn't like signs of weakness.

"Well, are you going to get on with it or not? We haven't got all night you know. It will be sunrise in an hour and I want us to be as far away from here as possible by then." Before Vervain could reply however, they heard a voice calling out into the night, "Fiver! Lucy! Pipkin! Silverweed! Where are you?" Robbins swore angrily as he recognised Bigwig's voice; if he had picked up their scent, in another minute he'd be upon them and he had nothing to fight back with. Unless…

Quickly thinking up a way to distract the veteran long enough for them to escape, he turned to Vervain, "Give me that damned runt. Hurry!" Grabbing Pipkin by the ears, he spun him in the air like a lasso before tossing him into the river. The terrified buck resurfaced, struggling to keep his head above water, "Help me! Somebody, please help me!" Knowing that Bigwig had heard his cries, Robbins mounted his horse and then, he and Vervain fled into the woods, away from Watership Down, heading for Cowslip's warren, where they would hopefully find food, shelter, and make further plans…

Bigwig lay asleep in a far corner of the Honeycomb, intent on keeping an eye on the 'untrustworthy Efrafans' that were curled up asleep on the floor in groups, including most of the Watershipers, as most of the sleeping burrows had been offered up to the injured, who needed more comfort, forcing Hazel's group to sleep in the main chamber like they had done on their first night. Although most of them had agreed to the altered sleeping arrangements, some, including Hawkbit, hadn't been happy offering up the soft bedding and privacy of their burrows (especially since they could be sharing them with does for the first time) to riff-raff Efrafans. Bigwig had finally settled the argument by ordering Hawkbit on night watch along with a warning that anyone else complaining of the sleeping arrangements would be next on night watch.

As he curled up in his sleep, trying to make himself comfortable on the bare floor, Bigwig awoke, his warrior instincts telling him something was up. The warren was quiet, aside from the steady breathing of sleeping rabbits (excluding Hotdog's foghorn-like snoring from the burrows), yet his instinct told him something was out of the ordinary. As he strained his ears to listen, he heard whispered voices and the soft padding of footsteps coming from the back burrows; someone was up and about for some reason. Curious, Bigwig stood and slowly made his way towards the burrows to investigate.

"Who's there?" Staring down the aisle of burrows, he saw no sign of movement and even the voices seemed to have stopped at his words. Thinking it was just his over-exaggerated sense of security from being around so many Efrafans that had woken him up, he turned to go back to sleep.

Suddenly, as he glanced into the burrow where their human friends were sleeping, he noticed that Lucy was gone. His full attention instantly restored, Bigwig strode over to Fiver's burrow, thinking the girl had gone to seek comfort from the runt who had been Alan's closest friend. A mixture of shock and confusion awaited the tough veteran as he stared into the empty burrow. Instantly, he headed for the burrow that Silverweed and Pipkin shared, only to find it deserted too. His mind instantly sprang to Vervain. That damned troublemaker had to be the one behind this; he had hated Alan as much as Woundwort had, so the idea of seeking revenge by harming his enemy's daughter and closest friends sounded just like the thing the dirty coward would do.

Breaking into a run, Bigwig made for Vervain's burrow, intent on pinning the slimy backstabber to the floor by the throat and forcing the truth out of him; only he landed on top of the unconscious Blackavar, whom Vervain and Robbins had left there, to keep him out of sight until they had escaped.

Bigwig froze, about to apologize, when he realised Blackavar hadn't responded to the blow; he simply lay there like the dead. For an instant, Bigwig feared the former Efrafan buck had been murdered, but to his great relief, noticed his chest rising and falling with his steady breathing. Bigwig's sense of smell instantly told him what had happened; the buck was smeared all over with the scent of the intruder who had attacked him. The fur on the back of his scalp stood on end as he recognised the scent of a supposedly dead enemy, "No…no…no, it can't be! _He_ can't still be alive! Oh Frith of Inle, it's HIM!"

The mental alarms in his brain instantly blared red, as he turned and run for the exit, the realisation playing itself over and over again in his head: _Robbins was still alive!_ But how did he get in unnoticed? Perhaps he had attacked Hawkbit as well, maybe even killed him? Had he and Vervain taken Lucy, Fiver, Pipkin and Silverweed hostages? Maybe they had killed them already in revenge? His insides cold with dread, the burly veteran rushed out into the night, his eyes scanning every inch of the deserted Down. The only thing he could see was Hawkbit who, to his utter outrage, had fallen asleep on guard duty, apparently giving Robbins the opportunity to sneak in undetected. Bigwig felt his face swell with anger; if something had happened to their friends, Hawkbit would pay for it good!

Suddenly, Bigwig's attention was caught by the terrified screams of Pipkin coming from the river, "Help me! Somebody, please help me!" Bigwig broke into a run, heading towards the direction of the voice. As he run down the hill, he spotted Robbins on horseback, Vervain behind him, fleeing into the woods and out of sight.

"Hraka! Why didn't I bring a backup along?" he thought furiously, seeing the two intruders escape but unable to give chase, not with Pipkin still in danger. Rushing down to the water's edge, he furiously looked around for the dwarf rabbit. His eyes fell upon some bubbles rising from the water just off shore, "Oh Frith…"

With a massive leap, Bigwig dove into the water like a seal and resurfaced a moment later, dragging Pipkin by the scruff of his neck. Luckily, the buck hadn't inhaled any water but was in a state of shock. He lay him down on the shore, as Pipkin coughed and spluttered from the water he had swallowed. "Easy lad, you're all right," Bigwig said softly, before his tone turned stern, "What in Frith's name where you doing out here? What happened? Where are Fiver, Lucy and Silverweed? Did those two scumbags take them?" Trembling and with guilt quickly building up inside him, Pipkin explained.

"Fiver and Silverweed went out searching for Alan; Lucy and I tried to follow them but decided not to tell anyone, not even Fiver, so they wouldn't try and stop us. Robbins and Vervain ambushed us as we came down here. They took Lucy…" Although partially relieved that Fiver and Silverweed were safe for the moment, Bigwig was furious at Pipkin.

"What in Frith's name were you thinking Pipkin? You saw Fiver and Silverweed sneak out on some crazy escapade and you didn't alert me? And what's more, you decide to _follow_ them without a word? Venturing outside in the dark of night with elil and now that scumbag Robbins lurking about? You're lucky you weren't killed!" Although he had enough sympathy not to yell at Pipkin, the seriousness in his voice was enough to make the young buck feel utterly terrible.

"I am so sorry Bigwig," Pipkin wept, his ears drooping in shame, "Lucy was so saddened by Alan's death, I didn't want to ruin her only hope of finding her father. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but Lucy wouldn't let me… Oh Bigwig, I feel so horrible…" Before Bigwig could comfort, or continue scolding Pipkin, a voice called from behind, "Hey Bigwig, what's all the commotion? Why are you down here? Is everything all right?" Hawkbit had woken up from the commotion and had made his way down to the water's edge to see what was going on. At the sight of the buck's carefree expression, Bigwig lost his temper.

"'Is everything all right? Is everything _all right_?'" he said, mimicking Hawkbit's question, before he exploded, "No, everything is NOT all right, you useless, careless, flee-brained mule! Robbins showed up, snatched Lucy away and nearly killed Pipkin! And where were you when this was happening? _Sleeping_, without a care in the world!" Hawkbit looked terrified; not so much from the sight of a furious Bigwig advancing on him about to beat him black and blue, but from the news that a supposedly dead enemy had shown up and broken in. Had someone been killed? Hawkbit fell onto his back as Bigwig towered over him, his eyes burning ambers of fury.

"On your feet soldier! Now, take Pipkin back to the Honeycomb and arouse the others. On the double! And brace yourself for the worst beating of your life when I return!" Realising he was in deep trouble and not wanting to give Bigwig a chance to beat him right there and then, Hawkbit instantly turned and rushed back towards the warren. Pipkin turned to Bigwig, "Where are you going?"

"I am going to find Fiver and Silverweed, before they get captured too. In the meantime, you get back to the Honeycomb and stay there; when I come back, the two of us are going to have a little chat about tonight." Pipkin shuddered under Bigwig's stern gaze but didn't dare utter a word as he trotted miserably back to the Honeycomb behind Hawkbit.

Bigwig paused for a moment to make sure they had made it back safely before turning and heading downstream, hoping to find Fiver and Silverweed before Robbins or some other threat found them first. Although he intended to also have a firm chat with Fiver as well for this reckless escapade, he couldn't help but wonder, what could he be up to, to take such a risk? He knew the seer buck sometimes tended to go over his head with his visions, but he also knew Fiver was more sensible than to do something so stupid for no reason. Perhaps there _was_ still some possibility of finding Alan alive after all?

Meanwhile, Hawkbit and Pipkin, both feeling sick with dread, had returned to the Honeycomb. By that time, the others had also begun to stir, alerted by the commotion outside. Hazel and Campion were the first to meet them as they run in, "By Frith, what happened to you two? Where's Bigwig? And what happened to your ears Pipkin?" asked Hazel, noticing the bruises on Pipkin's ears from where Robbins had held him. Pitying Pipkin, Hawkbit explained, causing all the onlookers to gasp in shock upon hearing that Robbins had survived and had infiltrated the place while they had been sleeping. Josie was already tending to Blackavar and was relieved to find that he was only unconscious, completely unharmed.

Although Hazel and several others had expressed strong disappointment when they heard of Pipkin's mistake, they were utterly relieved that Robbins hadn't killed him and had even given him some credit for insisting on accompanying Lucy. With Hawkbit on the other hand, they were nothing short of furious; only after they had realised that Robbins had used the route through the HAB to break in, was Hawkbit somewhat relieved of the blame and had even decided that he was better off this way; no doubt Robbins would have killed him had it been the other way around.

Derek and Hotdog were outraged to hear of Lucy's second kidnapping and had immediately grabbed their weapons and gone after Robbins and Vervain, only to find the kidnappers were already long gone. The greatest confusion came from the news that Fiver and Silverweed had gone, apparently in search of Alan. Many had dismissed it as an act of stupidity and desperation; Hazel, however, who was more concerned about his brother's safety, ignoring his friends' protests, had rushed out into the night, to join Bigwig in the search. Little did anyone realise what was going on only a few miles downstream…

Alan blinked, his eyes unfocused, his mind a total blank; he had no idea where he was, how he got there or what was happening. He wasn't even sure _who_ he was. It was like waking up from a terrible intoxication; his head was spinning and he felt completely disorientated. He was lying on his back on some sort of wet surface; he could feel cold water softly brushing against his back. Above him, he could see the night sky, which was blurred due to his bad eyesight, making him realise his glasses were missing. He could barely feel his body, let alone move; it was almost as if he had suddenly become a complete quadriplegic. He tried talking but even his vocal cords refused to respond. The only thing that seemed to be functioning, aside from his vital functions, were his eyelids.

Slowly, he felt a tingling sensation spread through his body and he felt the numbness start to recede. As he slowly regained some sensation, he started feeling pain; his body was covered in ghastly, yet luckily not heavy, injuries. As he tried to move his left arm, he felt a stabbing pain just above his elbow; the bone was fractured and the flesh around it swollen as a result. Bringing his hand up to his face, he felt a bloodstain trickling down from his head; his hair was stained in semi-dried blood, yet he could feel no wound underneath; the cranial injury inflicted by the rock had 'magically' healed, bringing him out of his coma.

Slowly, the blur in his mind began to recede and it all came back to him; the battle of Efrafa, falling from the balloon and 'dying', the Land Beyond Life, meeting the Four Brothers, his wife and the rest of his dead friends, the Life Memory Journey, all the memories of the past, present and the future-yet-to-come, the realisation of Robbins' true identity, being trapped in Hell with the demon-Woundwort and his narrow escape using the legendary Cross Bearer's Cross. Had he made it? Was he back in his physical body? Where was Fiver? For someone who had just returned from the dead, he felt anything but fine; his whole body ached painfully from his injuries and he could do little more than move his fingers. As he felt enough muscle power return, allowing him to move some more, he turned sideways and saw Fiver lying spread-eagle beside him, also slowly regaining consciousness.

After a few minutes, he felt enough strength return to sit upright and look around him. They had done it; they were back in their physical bodies in the world of the living. Bloodied, bruised and battered, yet very much alive, Alan inhaled a deep breath of life, feeling happier than he had ever felt before. He had successfully defied death and his life was his again. He had been literally reborn, with a chance to prevent the dreadful future that threatened his new home.

Even without his glasses, he could see he had been washed up far downstream in the river basin. His mind instantly flashed back to Woundwort; after what he had seen in the realm of Elil-rah, there was no further doubt that the evil dictator was indeed gone from this world for good, along with his legacy. Then Alan spotted Silverweed lying face down at his feet, completely unresponsive, like the dead.

Remembering what Fiver had said about Silverweed using his mystic powers to revive him by 'sending' Fiver into his mind, the man expected to see the worst. Gently turning the mystic over, he saw Silverweed's eyes staring blankly back at him; the buck was still alive but in a state of deep catatonia, not unlike how Alan had been. Although his powers had worked, it had come at a high price; Silverweed had literally 'traded' places with Alan, dooming himself to being reduced to only physically alive. A faint moan from Fiver brought his attention back to his heart-brother; the young buck slowly sat up, trembling and panting, yet completely unharmed.

"Alan…where…did we make it? Where's Woundwort? Is…?" Alan, having regained enough strength to talk, reassured him, "Everything is fine lad; we are back. Our ordeal is over. But Silverweed…" Before he could finish his sentence however, a loud crashing noise caught their attention; the dam that had formed by the floating debris was about to yield to the tremendous pressure building on the other side. Even as they looked, they saw the logs parting, the dam about to implode and swallow them up. "We have to get out of here now!" Fiver stood and was about to bold but Alan hesitated, "Wait, Silverweed! He's still alive; we can't leave him!"

Having equally renewed sympathy for Silverweed as Alan did, Fiver grabbed hold of Silverweed's ears and dragged him across the drained river basin, towards the shore. But as Alan tried to stand and land a hand, his injured ankle burst with pain and he collapsed to the ground again. Although not a fracture like his arm, the wound was too painful to allow him to run. And currently, running could mean the difference between life and death! Fiver too, being the only one left to carry Silverweed, was being held up from the dead weight he was dragging. With the dam only seconds away from collapse, they struggled with all their might to get clear.

Suddenly, the dam went; tons of water burst through the collapsing barrier, heading straight for them like a killer tsunami. Before they knew what was happening, the water hit them full force, the colossal strength of the current instantly engulfing them.

Although Fiver had made it to shore, he still held the unconscious Silverweed by the ears, who had been caught in the current, almost taking the straining Fiver, who refused to let go, with him. Alan too, because of his injured leg, hadn't been able to get clear in time and was now holding desperately onto the end of a root at the water's edge, with the water about to swallow him up, unable to help his friends, or even save himself. But just as he thought that they were never meant to survive after all, like two guardian angels sent to their rescue, two familiar rabbits suddenly burst out of the bushes; Hazel and Bigwig, hearing their cries, had arrived in the nick of time. Alan felt his heart relax; it seemed that fate had finally taken a change for the better.

Within seconds, Alan, Fiver and Silverweed were safely out of the river, which had resumed its original flow now that the dam was gone. Bigwig and Hazel kept their eyes fixed on Alan in utter amazement and bewilderment; they had hoped to find Fiver and Silverweed unharmed at best, but to discover they had found _Alan_ alive and well, was something they had never dreamed of! Their amazement was so great in fact that they couldn't even find the words to express it, until Alan broke the silence, "How did you know where to find us?"

"We didn't; we heard a strange voice calling in the winds; it said to follow the river downstream and we would find you. I could swear it sounded a lot like the Threarah, but that's impossible…" Bigwig said confused, but Alan and Fiver understood. The departed Chief Rabbit of Sandleford, still on the lookout for the well-being of his people even in death, had rendered them one last service; he had spiritually guided Bigwig and Hazel to them, to save them, so they could save their home.

Author's notes: Alan and Fiver have returned to the world of the living. And the events that would create the foretold future are beginning to unfold…Can the dark future be prevented? And what will happen with Robbins? By the way, in the original draft, Blackavar was killed just like in the film but I changed my mind at the last minute. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	60. Chapter 60 A Cousin's Last Gift

It was late morning when Robbins, Vervain and Lucy arrived at Cowslip's warren. After riding all night, to put as much space between them and Watership Down as possible, the two companions had finally made it to safety. The entrance to the Hall of Bones stood before them, looking most welcoming to the two weary fugitives. Hearing the sound of Robbins' horse, Cowslip emerged from the warren, his usual expression of sickly sweet pleasure instantly appearing on his face, as he recognised his visitors, "Greetings friends; I am honoured to see that there are at least a few who haven't forgotten my hospitality. Will you be staying? My warren is always open to…"

"Always open to the likes of us; yes, we already know, thank you very much Cowslip," Robbins finished for him, interrupting Cowslip's routine welcoming speech, "While we have indeed come to indulge in the benefits of your most _generous_ hospitality, we have also come to make you a preposition. Tell me, how does life treat you lately?" Cowslip frowned; following the recent incident with Alan, as well as the desertion of his prized mystic, who kept his people idle and under control with his powers, had allowed the rabbits of his warren to 'wake up' and revolt. That, combined with another incident that had occurred only a few days after Alan's visit, had left Cowslip in a rather difficult position.

"Not as well as I would have liked," the chubby buck replied grimly, losing his sweet expression, "First your unworthy companion leaves my peaceful warren in a state of turmoil; then that cowardly traitor Silverweed deserts me in favour of those troublemaking hlessil, and my people quickly lose their idle tranquillity. And then, I take in that wondering man-kitten who _encourages_ my subjects to overthrow me; only, ironically, fate gave him what they deserved. Unfortunately, it also came at a high price…"

He gestured in the direction of the savage village located on the far side of the forest; Robbins could see black smoke rising from the trees beyond, indicating the aftermath of a recent inferno. The surrounding hills overlooking the village of the savage humanoids had been incinerated, leaving a landscape covered in smoking ashes stretching out to the horizon. The fumes of jet fuel in the air instantly told Robbins what had happened; he recalled Pete telling him how his plane had crashed after he had bailed out, annihilating the savage village in the process.

Although Robbins obviously didn't care an iota about Cowslip being ruined, no more than he would if someone told him his neighbour's dog had died, he could still see another useful advantage presented to him: Throughout the journey, he had pondered over the question of how would he encourage Cowslip's cooperation ad assistance. Now, seeing that Cowslip's old way of life was over, he could take advantage and offer him a new life among his ranks, just like he had done with Vervain. If Cowslip were to be _dependant_ on an alliance with Robbins to earn his living, then there would be no fear of betrayal, since the arrogant buck valued his own well being above anything else.

"I see we all have our problems; I have lost my only chance of ever getting home, Vervain here has lost his Chief and warren, and you lost your…'business enterprise'," Robbins said, in a false sympathetic voice, "However…" he continued, "thanks to my efforts, the three of us have the means of building a new life _together_; a life of power, authority and control, just like the late General Woundwort had started out to do." He placed the case containing Drake's journals on the ground before his companions.

"The secrets within this box, courtesy of the late Dr Drake, are the key to power in this world, which we have all to ourselves! Alan's friends may have won the _battle_, but they will lose the _war_!" Although rather confused at Robbins' plans, Vervain and Cowslip smiled evilly; they had both found themselves a new leader, who could lead them back into power, "So, are you with me?"

"ALL HAIL, ROBBINS-RAH!" the two rabbits chanted together, raising their forepaws in a gesture of loyalty towards their new master. Robbins smiled in satisfaction, "Good. But be warned; if I am to be your leader, then I am to be respected and obeyed without question. Is that understood?" As soon as his new subjects had given him their life's oath of allegiance, he turned and headed back towards his horse, where their captive still lay tied up onto its back. By now, the anaesthetic had worn off and the girl was emitting muffled shouts through her gag, struggling in vain to free herself.

As he proceeded to undo her binds, he noticed Lucy was now barefoot; after waking and finding herself bound and gagged, unable to do anything other than wriggle her hands and feet, she had managed to shake off her shoes and socks as they rode along, leaving breadcrumbs for the others to find when they came searching for her. Robbins sighed in frustration; he would have to double back and clean up that trail or risk having Alan's friends trace him all the way to Cowslip's warren and compromising his only safe place of refuge.

Keeping her wrists and ankles securely bound so she wouldn't try and run, Robbins picked her up over his shoulder and carried her down into the Hall of Bones. Holding her up upside-down by the knot that bound her ankles, he 'presented' her to his associates.

"This is Lucy; she is to be my special guest and hopefully, someday will be another useful member of our team. While she will not be entitled to any authority over you just yet, she is to be treated with respect and hospitality at all times. Any requests she might have - with the exception of leaving the warren without my explicit permission of course - are to be answered to. That task, I am assigning to you Cowslip; you are to be her guard and her caregiver. As for you Vervain, I need you for…"

"I am to be saddled with this…this runt ithe-kitten?" Cowslip snapped in indignation, studying Lucy's skinny and petite form, who, strangely enough didn't seem scared of being a prisoner to the vicious murderer grasping her like some eli its prey, if not a bit embarrassed of being presented to those two strange rabbits in this undignified manner. Robbins rounded on Cowslip.

"You will do as I command. Never forget, I am your leader now and my word is law. I am assigning you a task that's hopefully within your capabilities. Disobedience or failure in your duties will mean punishment. Any further questions?"

"N…no master. As you command," muttered Cowslip hastily, slightly taken aback by Robbins' firmness. _This ithe is definitely someone born to inspire unquestionable authority_, he thought.

The introductions finished, Robbins carried Lucy down to Strawberry's old burrow, which was to be her new prison cell. Gently putting her down, he finally untied her. For an instant, Lucy thought her captor was going to leave her untied with only that oaf Cowslip as her guard, which might give her a chance to escape. But then she felt Robbins push her down flat on her tummy and grab her ankles again.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Robbins was tying her ankles securely together. Feeding the rope around a thick root supporting the nearest wall, he 'shackled' her to the wall by her ankles, but leaving her hands free. Although in a far more comfortable position than the horse ride, Lucy knew she wasn't going anywhere. Sure enough as she tried to pull free, the binds circling her ankles, as well as the root, held firm, making her feel like a prisoner in medieval stocks. Although she could reach the knots, she found them to be tight as bolts, impossible for her small hands to undo. Now all she could do was lie down and glare at her captor.

Robbins smiled in satisfaction at her futile efforts to pull free; although it was highly unlikely that she would be able to make it very far in that wilderness now that she was barefoot, even if she escaped, he didn't want to take any chances of losing her again. Giving her a few playful pokes, which she only responded to with groans of annoyance, he left her, with a single glowstick for light, and returned to the main chamber to continue the briefing with his new 'subjects'.

"Although we should be safe here for a while, it is only a matter of time before they start searching for us. Also, it seems that our prisoner has left a trail that could lead them here; and we are going to prepare a reception for them when they do. Although Alan is dead, his friends remain at large and seriously outnumber us, making it impossible to launch a direct counter-attack. Instead, we are going to take advantage of the girl's recklessness and have them walk into a death trap when they come looking for her; if we succeed in eliminating Shaw and Boone, the enemy will be left without humans to protect them, giving _us_ the upper hand…"

"Give us the upper hand Robbins-rah?" asked Vervain, "Even we somehow eliminate those two remaining ithel, the outsiders would still outnumber us, hrair to three; what kind of advantage could we possibly have? That man-kitten will be our death warrant…" Robbins shook his head in frustration.

"Use your brains you fool; if we can kill Shaw and Boone, we can also take their weapons and proceed to phase two: an armed raid on their warren and snatch away their first litters, to raise and train them under our command. Our first step will be to enlarge our own group of followers; I estimate, within several years we'll have an army powerful enough to overrun the remainder of the outsiders, before proceeding with our conquest in earnest." His companions listened intently as Robbins continued.

"You and I Vervain will go and set the traps. Cowslip, you stay here and keep an eye on the girl. Do whatever you must to ensure she doesn't escape but don't you dare hurt her; she may be a prisoner, but she is to be treated with respect at all times, unless I say otherwise. That's a standing rule for everybody under my command. Understood?" Cowslip nodded to his new 'master'.

After gathering the essentials to set a deadly booby trap, Robbins and Vervain left to double back and prepare a surprise for anyone who tried to pick up the trail the girl had left behind.

Meanwhile, at the foot of Watership Down, two exhausted men on horseback were making their way home empty-handed. After awakening and finding that Lucy had been taken by Vervain and another unknown intruder who had helped him escape, they had wasted no time in going in pursuit of the kidnappers. Unfortunately, by that time, Vervain and Robbins had disappeared into the night, having used a stream as a trail as not to leave behind any tracks. Frustrated and unable to pick up their trail in the dark, the men decided to return to the Honeycomb and renew the search at daybreak.

As Derek and Hotdog made their way up to the warren, they suddenly heard a rustling coming from the forest at the foot of the Down; someone was coming. In an instant, both men had raised their weapons as the intruders came into view, "Who's there?" bellowed Derek, "Answer or I'll shoot!" The 'intruders' seemed startled for a moment, before Hazel's voice answered, "It's all right Derek, It's us. And guess whom we found!" Derek lowered his gun and stared at the group that had emerged from the bushes. It was Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, Silverweed, unconscious and carried between Hazel and Fiver, and…

"_Alan_?" Derek and Hotdog whispered in unison, struck dumb in shock, as they recognised the injured man limping along, supported by Bigwig, "IT'S ALAN!" In an instant, the two men had intercepted the group and grabbed their friend in a fierce hug, nearly suffocating him, "Bloody hell man, we thought you were toast! How the hell did you make it?" Before Alan could reply however, he was set upon by a group of overjoyed rabbits, which, hearing Derek shout Alan's name, had come out of the Honeycomb to investigate and seen the impossible had happened.

In an instant, Alan was engulfed in so many giant furry bodies, nuzzling him in overjoyed relief, he could scarcely breathe. Josie gave him a deep passionate kiss, something she had refrained from doing earlier, thinking that her late husband would be returning. He let out a cry of pain as a tearful dwarf rabbit jumped into his embrace, accidentally landing on his broken arm, "Oh Frith, Fiver _was_ right; I knew you'd come back Alan!"

The man held the dwarf rabbit in his embrace using his good arm, "Of coarse I would come back Pipkin. Surely, there wasn't any doubt about it?" he asked in a rather mischievous tone, smiling at his rabbit in his arms. To his surprise, Pipkin didn't smile back and only continued to sob miserably, as if tormented by some sort of guilt. As he stared around, Alan also realised one face, which he had been dying to see, was absent, "Where's Lucy?"

Instantly, all expressions of joy from Alan's return had vanished and were replaced with sadness. For a moment, there was utter silence, until Josie explained, "Alan, you daughter has been kidnapped." They all stood silent, expecting Alan to express concern or even anger, for letting him down; however, to everyone's surprise, he only nodded grimly, "Robbins took her, right?" They all gasped in disbelief.

"How in Frith's name did you know? Did you tell him?" Hazel and Bigwig both shook their heads in denial, as they all continued to stare at Alan, who realised the time had come for explanations; he and Fiver would have to tell them about the Life Memory Journey and the dark future that threatened their home as soon as possible. He turned to his friends.

"I need everyone aroused and assemble in the Honeycomb right away. There is something Fiver and I must tell you…" But Josie interrupted, "No Alan, right now you are going to rest; you're badly injured and exhausted. You can take your time to tell us everything after you've rested and I've treated your injuries. Come along." Although Alan let her support him so he could limp up the hill with his injured ankle, he said, "No, we have to explain now that our memories are fresh; you can tend my wounds in the meantime, but our story can't wait. Everyone has to know of the danger…"

"Danger? What is he talking about? Bigwig? Hazel? What on earth is going on here?" The Chief Rabbit and Captain of Owsla both shook their heads, "We'd like to know _ourselves_; from the moment we pulled them out of the river, they've been muttering something about Silverweed sending them to see our dead friends and reliving their lives' memories or something. It sounded almost as if they were delirious…" They all looked at each other in confusion and then at the still-comatose Silverweed, whom Hazel was carrying on his back. Although there wasn't any apparent injury on the silver-furred buck, he remained completely unresponsive like a vegetable.

Ten minutes later, Alan and Fiver sat in the centre of the Honeycomb, surrounded by all their friends, waiting to hear their story. With the exception of the Efrafan evacuees, who had gone outside for morning silflay under the watch of Corporal Moss, only Violet was absent, having refused to leave Bluebell's side, who still lay in critical condition, showing no signs of improvement.

While Josie carefully applied dittany and bandages to Alan's wounds, the man launched into his story; how he had woken up in the Land Beyond Life after falling from the balloon, finding the Threarah waiting to greet him (Silver gasped in surprise at this) and taking him to meet all their dead friends and comrades in Frith's Sun Cave.

Fiver then picked up, telling them how he had realised that something didn't add up with his vision, going to ask Silverweed for help, having another vision showing him that Alan was still alive and deciding to go out in search of him with Silverweed (several rabbits including Hazel gave him disapproving looks at this). He told them how they had found Alan comatose and Silverweed using his psychic powers to send him into Alan's broken mind and bring him back from beyond. How he had woken up in the land beyond life, to find his father awaiting him to congratulate him and apologise for neglecting him all his life because of his tabooed sixth sense (At this point Hazel smiled warmly, pleased at his father's change of heart, even in death). By this time, all the rabbits in the chamber were utterly dumbstruck.

"You journeyed to the _Land Beyond Life_?" asked Blackberry in utter amazement, "But Frith's Heaven is meant to be a sanctuary for _our_ kind. How could a _human_ enter Frith's sacred lands and receive such a friendly welcome? And from our former Chief nonetheless, who was a dedicated patriot of rabbithood? He would never have approved of such a thing…"

"That was because he was blinded by his fear of Woundwort's threat to his people. His heart was always set on _protecting_ his people. Just like I confessed to Silver the other night, on his deathbed _he_ entrusted me with the task of helping you establish a new warren and to rid your world of Woundwort's threat. There were other humans there too; Drake, his family, my wife and parents and others who had died defending your world. El-ahrairah explained that because of a bond we share as a result of your origins being from the human race, some humans may choose to pass on into the Land Beyond Life after death." All the rabbits looked astonished.

"Are you saying we are partly _human_?" gasped Strawberry in amazement. Alan nodded, "When Drake created the Four Brothers, he used human genes to give you human size, speech and intelligence, which, combined with our friendship, creates a bond between our species. Also, as a result of my actions back in my own time to protect your world, sacrificing my own in the process, Frith granted us the blessing of Prince Rainbow's Bridge, sealing that bond. Undoubtedly, Hemlock and his descendants were determined to see to it that this bond would remain buried forever. Such irony, considering they hated _humans_ so badly, yet he valued the darkest part of their legacy so much." At this point, Campion and Groundsel couldn't even look at him anymore; undoubtedly, the realisation that they had spend most of their lives fighting for Woundwort's dark and false cause felt shameful to say the least.

Alan and Fiver went on to tell them about their meeting with the Four Brothers and all their dead friends and family in Frith's Sun Cave. They told them everything El-ahrairah, Drake, Rubscuttle, Laurel, Santon, the Threarah and Alan's parents had told them; after seven centuries of animosity and conflict, the rabbits were finally hearing the true history of their forefathers. Efrafans and Watershipers alike stared at each other in amazement, realising that the animosity between their warrens had been the result of a cruel scam of manipulation and betrayal initiated by Hemlock; everyone in the chamber now realised that humans, which, until now, had been known as nothing but the darkest of creatures, had been their creators and allies that had tragically been torn apart by the hatred of a traitor.

Alan and Fiver then launched into their story of the Life Memory Journey: The rise of the Four Brothers, Hemlock's betrayal and the murder of Laurel, the return of Sven and the murder of El-ahrairah, Drake's banishment, the end of peaceful rabbit-human coexistence and the beginning of the Lapine Dark Ages. The era of Woundwort with his lifetime of terror, siege and destruction (Campion narrowed his eyes when Alan mentioned his father's fate), the attempted destruction of Sandleford with Myxomitosis (Bigwig, Holly and several others who had lost friends and family to the plague, showed expressions of utmost fury at this), the unfolding of the Gift of Prince Rainbow and Woundwort's desire to exploit it to fulfil his life's cause.

Finally, Alan and Fiver told them about the future-yet-to-come: Robbins' unforeseen survival, the beginning of a new war, which would eventually tear the Watershipers apart, the world sinking into an era of destruction and warfare because of Alan's 'death', and the realisation of Robbins' true identity. They concluded with the part of being thrown into the hellish realm of Elil-rah, being mercilessly tormented by manifestations of their own fears and regrets, the final confrontation with the demon-Woundwort and the Cross Bearer's Cross helping them escape back to the physical world.

"And that's our story," Alan concluded, "When I came to, I was lying washed up downstream, where the current had dragged me after I fell from the balloon, with Fiver and Silverweed beside me. It was almost as if it had all just been just a bad dream, yet I am willing to bet my life that it all really happened. And that is why we need to act now." Alan stared back at the petrified faces of his friends, all of which bore expressions of shock, fear and anger. Hazel was fretting over an embarrassed Fiver after hearing of his brother's terrible ordeal in the realm of Elil-rah and even Bigwig and Holly, for the first time in their lives, looked fearful of the grim future awaiting them. The does all stood terrified and on the verge of tears. Blackavar, Groundsel, Silver, Pipkin and Dandelion were all fighting the urge to be sick, while Hawkbit had fainted. Only Campion seemed to retain his calm, as if coming to terms with their situation and determined to do something about it.

"So, what are we supposed to do, to prevent this dark future?"

Alan looked at the former Efrafan Captain of Owsla, directly in the eyes, "We must eliminate the _seed_ of the problem. And _I_ must be the one to do it; that's why I was sent back," he replied in a rather grim tone; the thought of been assigned the task of having to kill someone who, he now knew, had once been his _friend_, felt extremely heavy on his conscience. Derek and Hotdog, who had been struck dumb in shock upon hearing that Robbins was in fact their long forgotten friend Ronald Fields, broke in.

"Are you saying that psychopath is _Fields_, out seeking revenge because of that stupid row you had all those years ago? Don't get me wrong Al; I am not saying that you're lying or anything, but surely you aren't being a bit optimistic? Even if Fields had faked his death and changed his appearance and identity to vanish, do you really think he would resolve to _murder_? True, he was always arrogant and pompous, and when he severed our friendship, a downright ass, but _this_? He never had the stomach for such brutality. Hell, that guy Robbins doesn't even seem to have anything _humane_ left in him come to think about it…"

"How do we even know that Robbins isn't that ruddy brother of yours, Royce?" Hotdog argued, backing Derek up, "If you ask me, old Rolls-Royce has shown much more potential in becoming that back-stabbing rat out there. How do we know it isn't _him_ behind that psycho's face and not old Fields at all?" Although Hotdog obviously had a point, Alan shook his head.

"No, Royce had made peace with me long before my family were killed; although he had made it clear that he couldn't accept me into his life, he had decided to call a truce and simply sever all connections with me; despite his attitude, he never wanted _revenge_. On the other hand, Fields' greatest fear was to be inferior to those around him and Mary falling for me rather than him had been a great stab to his pride. That also explains why he didn't kill Lucy; he felt that she should have been _his_ daughter and intended to make it so."

"It doesn't matter," Bigwig interrupted, "Who this Robbins, Fields or whatever his name is, or _was_, is not our concern now. What matters is that he poses a grave threat to our home and must be eliminated at all costs. He has to be found and killed quickly." The others all muttered words of agreement; the realisation of what Robbins would do in the soon-to-be future, left no room for argument.

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a loud wail coming from the burrows, "No, Bluebell! Frith, I beg you, don't do this to me!" Josie, Alan, Fiver, Hazel and Silver hurried to the burrow, where Bluebell lay, slowly succumbing to his injury. It was clear by now that the buck was in bad shape; although miraculously still alive, he had slipped into a coma, his condition worsening by the minute. As if reading his mind, Hazel took Alan aside to talk to him, while Fiver and Silver tried to comfort the distraught doe.

"He is not going to make it, is he?" he asked the man, who shook his head sadly, "I am afraid not; and things are only going to get worse when he does. In that…vision of the future, we learned that after he died, Violet let herself starve to death in grief, leaving her kittens as orphans. Two of them who somehow survived into adulthood, deserted and joined Robbins. We saw they had become soldiers in his Owsla, similar to Woundwort's followers." Hazel seemed to pale under his fur at this, "Isn't there anything we could do? I know Josie has already said that there is nothing more that can be done, but perhaps you could come up with something…?"

Although Alan hated to encourage his Chief with false hope, he dreaded breaking the promise he had made to Speedwell before leaving the Land Beyond Life. But how could he possibly help Bluebell? Josie had already explained that the buck's heart was damaged beyond repair, leaving him clinging onto life by a thread. Bluebell's time left to live was quickly running out and there was no way to stop it, save perhaps for a new heart… Wait, that was it!

"Hazel," Alan said, having suddenly come up with an idea, "I think there just _might_ be a way. Mind you, it will be difficult and the chances of success are drastically slim, but it's the only option I can think of." Hazel was about to inquire about Alan's plan, but the man cut him off, "Go get Fiver, Bigwig, Silver, Blackberry, Holly, Derek, Hotdog, Josie and Campion, and then join me in your burrow. Don't tell anyone else anything yet. I'll explain my plan after we are assembled in privacy." Although sceptical, Hazel obeyed and five minutes later Alan stood surrounded by his friends in the privacy of Hazel's burrow.

"Okay, this is what we're going to do: As you already know, Bluebell is dying. However, I think there might still be a chance to save him. Josie, you say that his heart is damaged beyond repair, is that right?"

"Yes, we should be able to sustain him for a few more days on intracardiac and CPR, but we can't keep it up for much longer. We'll probably wake up one morning within the next few days and find him dead in his burrow…"

"So that leaves us with only one choice: we need to _replace_ Bluebell's heart with a new one." The rabbits' reaction was as if they had been struck in the face with a frying pan, as they stared back at Alan in shock and confusion, "_Replace his heart_? But that's impossible!" However Josie understood where Alan was getting at.

"You're suggesting we perform a _transplant_? But how? And from what donor?" she asked. Although doubtful himself, Alan explained, "It is too obvious: we can use Speedwell's intact heart to replace Bluebell's. Speedwell was Bluebell's cousin, so their tissues should match. Drake's journals should contain all the medical information on your anatomy we need for the operation." Not surprisingly, nobody seemed the least convinced of Alan's plan; the rabbits in particular, were looking as if he was suggesting something terrible.

"You mean we _desecrate_ Speedwell's body and use it as…as _raw materials_ for some freak sorcery?" Blackberry gasped, "That's an abomination!" Holly nodded in agreement, "He is right. Speedwell may be dead but he must still be laid to rest with decency. If I were Chief Rabbit, I would most certainly forbid such a thing! No, we should better accept Bluebell is going to die and make him as comfortable as possible. Violet will also have to be faced with the truth…"

"It is not that I have any qualms about desecrating a comrade's dead body," Bigwig put in, "Speedwell is dead and can't feel any pain, so we won't be inflicting any _suffering_. But I still think your plan is insane; if Speedwell is dead then his _heart_ is dead too, so how can you expect it to do Bluebell any good? How do you even expect Bluebell to stay _alive_, when you try removing his old heart from his body? You'll just be killing him!"

"Not necessarily," Alan explained, "Remember back at Cowslip's warren, when Robbins shot me? Well, at that point, my heart had completely stalled for about a whole minute until McEwen restarted it using CPR; as long as part of the _brain_ is still functioning, your body isn't dead. All we have to do is put him in deep anaesthesia and it won't hurt him…hopefully. Besides, this isn't something new; back in our time, hundreds of humans have had new organs transplanted and all of them came from dead donors, like Speedwell." But his friends were still far from convinced.

"Do you realise how much we would need for such a procedure?" asked Derek, "All we have is a first aid kit, an oxygen cylinder and a portable defibrillator. How do you except to pull this off without the appropriate facilities, equipment or staff? None of us are even transplant surgeons, not even Josie."

"Derek is right; I am a veterinarian, but I have never done something so advanced in _practice_; transplants in animals is only _theoretically_ possible. Even if I had a detailed written procedure for it, what chances of success do you think we would have? One in a hundred?"

"More that what I would give Bluebell if we leave him like this, that's for sure," Alan insisted, "And if we are going to try this, then it has to be done today; if we wait until tomorrow, without refrigeration, Speedwell's body will have entered the decomposing phase where nothing can be salvaged for transplant."

"That doesn't stop it being an outrageous abomination!" snapped Blackberry, "We have no right to do such a thing, regardless if it's meant for a good purpose! It's Frith's will when we should die; it isn't our place to cheat destiny," After they had told him of their journeying into the past to correct the future, he had been so horrified by the idea of having the ability to control fate but had let it slide after hearing of Alan's decision to change the past by sacrificing his old world, he dreaded the thought of being able to cheat death. Some of them however, were beyond breaking an old taboo.

"So we just sit back and let him die? 'Sorry Bluebell, Alan suggested an unusual way to save you but we had too many qualms to do it.' What do you think _Bluebell_ would say to that? Or Violet for that matter?" asked Fiver reproachfully. Blackberry only gave Fiver a disgusted look, as if the seer buck had just uttered a highly disturbing swearword. Bigwig broke in.

"I don't like it any better than you Fiver, but we have to face facts: Bluebell is dying and it is beyond our power to help him. Even Alan admits that this plan of his is highly unlikely to succeed, even if we tried…"

"Then there is no harm is doing our best," Silver broke in. They all turned to look at the Threarah's nephew in surprise; although the chubby buck was far more open-minded than Blackberry, they didn't expect him to be willing to go along with such a plan, given his upbringing with his uncle, "If my uncle was willing to see past his pride and appoint Alan as our _protector_, then I am sure he would be willing to go along with this plan to help save Bluebell," he said, remembering what Alan had told them about the warm welcome he and Fiver had received in the land beyond life. "And as for my sister, she would rather we break our taboos, instead of leaving Bluebell to die. Frankly, after hearing Alan's plan I'd be ashamed of myself if I didn't at least try." Some of the others slowly nodded in agreement but Blackberry looked furious.

"I can't believe what I am hearing! You mean to tell me, you are all willing to go and start tearing apart our friend's body? That's what the elil do! Or perhaps the likes of Woundwort would have approved of such savagery…" This was a mistake, because Campion, offended at that remark, turned to stare at Blackberry in the face with an angry glare.

"For your information Blackberry, the General would have indeed approved of such a plan; but not as an act of _savagery_. Although he was a murderer and a traitor to rabbithood, he taught us priceless lessons, including the fact that you can't expect Frith to be there and protect you at every turn; your survival depends entirely on your own actions. Although I agree that it sounds unlikely to succeed, I believe Alan's plan is justified. There is no harm in trying, even if we fail…"

"That's easy for you to say. Being the lackey of that killer has rubbed off on y…" But Hazel, who had remained silent throughout the whole conversation, lost in deep thoughts, cut him off before he could say something that would make Campion angry, "That's enough, Blackberry!" He turned to the others.

"Ever since we came to Watership Down our lives have changed entirely; with the reintroduction of humans into our world and the resurrection of El-ahrairah's legacy, as well as humanity's, it is obvious that our lives will never be the same again. Strictly speaking, Bigwig and Alan are right; Speedwell is dead so we won't be hurting him by taking his heart for his cousin. I believe it would be wrong _not_ to try."

"And what do you think _Speedwell_ would say about this Hazel-rah?" Blackberry snapped in firm disapproval, "Cut up his body? Frankly, if _I_ were in his place and you lot desecrated _my_ body, I would have waited till you arrived in the Land Beyond Life, so I could cuff you on the nose!" Seeing the argument was getting them nowhere, Alan interrupted.

"When I was in the Land Beyond Life, I talked to Speedwell and Buckthorn; as a last wish, they requested that I do everything within my power to save Bluebell. I guess that's as close as possible to meaning that we have Speedwell's permission to use his heart for the transplant." This made Blackberry fall silent; if Speedwell had requested it personally, then they had to respect their late friend's wishes. After a few minutes of silence, Hazel said, "Well, I guess we are going along with your plan Alan. So, what do we do?"

After going over all their available resources, the humans descended to the HAB to retrieve Drake's journals, in hopes of finding any useful information for the operation, which the creator of the future world might have left behind. To their utmost disappointment, they reached the control room, only to find Drake's time capsule had been stolen. But Alan wasn't about to give up so easily.

"All right, this is how we're going to do it: since we don't have any written procedure, we shall have to _improvise_ one. I suggest we set up surgery in the library; it seems that HAL might have some good use after all." Remembering the AI librarian, that held a compendium of all human knowledge in his memory core and also capable of processing all that knowledge accordingly on request, Alan felt positive that the super-computer could talk them through the surgery, step by step.

"But didn't he say that Drake had wiped his memory core?" Hotdog asked, causing Alan's hopes to plummet again; then he remembered the drive with all the records of knowledge he had prepared back in London. Although definitely not as advanced as the original database, it should suffice for HAL to reconstruct his knowledge archive somewhat and use it to improvise the procedure via his powerful processor. Doing some quick thinking, he turned to his companions.

"Hotdog, you and Derek go back up to the Honeycomb and bring down the laptop, the box with the data drive, the toolbox, all our medical equipment, our blankets and towels, one of the tents, and our finest flashlights with their batteries charged. Meanwhile, Josie and I are going to gather everything else useful we can find down here and bring it to the library. Rendezvous there in ten minutes. Go!"

Without wasting any time, the group split up, to tend to each of their assignments. Alan and Josie headed to the HAB's medical bay and started their search. Although most of the cabinets had been emptied in the evacuation, they were still able to find a forgotten surgeon's chest of drawers containing the basic tools they needed for the operation as well as several other useful odds and ends. After pilling everything they could find on a trolley, they carted it off to the kitchens, to have it sterilized from seven centuries worth of dust and germs.

After finding a large soup pot that could hold up to eight litres of water, Alan filled it with water from the flooded atrium and placed it on one of the still-functioning electric ovens to boil it. As soon as the water reached boiling point, he placed all the surgical implements in it, letting the boiling water kill the germs they were contaminated with, before rinsing them out with alcohol. Soon, all the tools lay sparkling clean and free of parasites on a napkin. Gathering everything up, they hastily made their way to the library, where they met Derek and Hotdog, who had brought down the rest of the equipment.

Pitching the tent around HAL's screen, which would serve as protection against the unhealthy, dusty air that filled the room, something that would otherwise be fatal for Bluebell when they operated, they set up their makeshift surgery inside: flashlights were suspended from the roof on clips, illuminating the whole interior, while the trolley from the infirmary, now scrubbed and sterilised, was made into an operating table fit for Bluebell's size. Two fold-up tables were set up on either side to accommodate the working stations of the three surgeons: one side had the surgery implements and drugs for Josie, who would be the head surgeon, and the defibrillator and vitals monitor for Alan and Derek, the assistant surgeon and equipment technician respectively.

Next, they started working to reconstruct HAL's memory core. After some experimenting, they were finally able to establish a wireless link-up to HAL. Ignoring the warnings of using obsolete hardware and software of a long-dead assembly line, Alan connected his data drive to the computer and started flowing the e-library into the artificial librarian's blank database; multiple icons appeared on HAL's screen, as the processor stored the files in his memory core, _"112,789 files processed; 285,467 remaining. Estimated download completion time: 12 minutes, 49 seconds."_ Soon, HAL's electronic brain had memorised all the medical data from Alan's library started computing the procedure for Bluebell's operation.

"_Outlining detailed instructions for a transplant operation on a male Lagomorpha Sepien, 5,8ft in height, 105lbs in weight, and approximately 12 years of age. I have run a full simulation and discovered a possible flaw: the medical references within my data bank, although applicable for human surgery, contain no detailed anatomical information on patient's species. Probable scenarios drawn up from automatic DNA mapping infinite; accuracy unknown. Human decision required."_ Alan started feeling desperate; with his obsolete library, which contained no medical information on the rabbits, the AI librarian would literally be talking them through the operation by the seat of his pants.

"There is no more time for more improvisations; we shall just have to chance it and do our best. All right, time to bring in the patient. Let's go!" They returned to the Honeycomb, where they found all the rabbits waiting for them, looking nervous; word of Alan's idea to save Bluebell had already leaked out and everybody was wondering how it would turn out, the majority with strong emphasis on failure. They returned to Bluebell's burrow, where Violet still sat beside her dying mate, her neglected kittens lying curled up on some goosedown bedding nearby.

It took a while to persuade Violet to let them take Bluebell away. Finally, after a lot of persuasion from Hazel and Silver, Violet finally relented and let the humans hoist Bluebell on a stretcher, to move him to the surgery. Before heading back to the shaft with his colleagues, Alan turned to Violet, "Don't worry; everything will be fine. Bluebell will be returned to you alive and good as new." The doe, although still almost out of her mind with worry, slowly nodded to Alan, who patted her reassuringly between the ears before joining his group of soon-to-be surgeons. The time had come to do or die.

Hotdog went down first, so he could receive Bluebell's stretcher on the end of the pulley, as well as a shroud containing Speedwell's corpse. Hazel had suggested that some of them should come along too, in case they needed assistance, but Alan insisted that none of them could be of any help whatsoever and that they needed privacy. They returned to the makeshift surgery, where they laid Speedwell's body on the operating table first for the autopsy. Alan stepped inside the tent and drew the drapes closed.

Wearing an apron and sterile gloves, Josie unzipped the shroud, revealing Speedwell's stiff and cold carcass. Nobody dared utter a word as they worked feverishly, HAL giving them detailed and flawless instructions in the background; the AI's multi-sensors were functioning at full capacity, collecting x-ray and t-ray images, as well as a digital DNA sample of the body. All this information was in turn matched with all the references on medicine, zoology and genetics in the e-library, as HAL's processor created a theoretical anatomical model of the future rabbits, to use for the upcoming operation.

An hour later, Alan placed a plastic bag containing Speedwell's intact, yet inactive heart, in a portable icebox, ready to be transplanted into Bluebell's body. Hastily placing Speedwell's dissected body back in its shroud and out of sight, they placed the comatose Bluebell, who was waiting to either receive his new heart or die, on the table. Hotdog, whose skills wouldn't be needed in the operation, carted Speedwell's body away, to stitch up the wound before they buried him.

Josie took out a bottle of morphine and filled a syringe, "Time for the _hard_ part. Remember, any mistakes and Bluebell dies." With one final check to ensure they hadn't overlooked anything, they got to work on one of the most risky operations known to medical science, which they only knew how to perform _in theory_, with their patient literally in the position of a guinea pig, his chances of survival, let alone recovery, practically nil. But it was too late to turn back now. Josie injected Bluebell with the morphine, putting him into deep anaesthesia.

The process was drastically long and frustrating, during which time the three first-time surgeons struggled to concentrate on their work, silently praying that they wouldn't make some mistake, which could mean the last of Bluebell. Following HAL's guidelines, Josie and Alan operated, while Derek monitored readings. After cutting open the chest cavity and opening up the sternum, they carefully detached the aorta and vena cava from the heart, which had a deep cut on the left ventricle from the knife stab, and removed it. Finally, after several hours of hard work, they finally finished stitching the new heart into place. But as they watched the buck's vital functions, Bluebell's new heart didn't restart.

"His brain can't last without oxygen for much longer; get out the defibrillator and start CPR. Hurry!" Quickly powering up the defibrillator and slapping the shock pads onto his chest, they struggled to restore Bluebell's pulse. On HAL's command, Derek zapped Bluebell once, twice, and thrice; each time the pulse detector reading would rise for an instant and then dip again.

"Flat line; we're losing him!" Josie said desperately as she watched the pulse detector continue to read zero; in a few more seconds, Bluebell's brain would succumb to lack of oxygen and the last spark of life in his body would die out. But Alan wasn't about to give up yet, "Hit him again dammit! Do it, Deke!" Derek obeyed, causing yet another spasm to jolt through Bluebell's body. Nothing.

"Damn! Intracardiac, hurry!" Josie injected Bluebell's new heart with a stimulant to regenerate its beat but the chart still read nil. With one last desperate attempt, Alan bent down and whispered in Bluebell's ear, "Bluebell, did you know that Bigwig is in love with Hawkbit? How about that, huh?"

The others stared at Alan blankly, thinking he had lost his mind in desperation. Then suddenly, as if by a miracle, Josie noticed the pulse reading begin to rise; Bluebell's new heart had restarted. The continued to watch in silence as the pulse detector continued to give irregular readings. Would it hold? Perhaps the heart tissue was incompatible with Bluebell's? Or had they waited too long and Speedwell's heart was useless? What would happen then? They watched until the pulse reading stabilised at a weak, yet steady pulse; the heart had settled in its new body and was working again. The group breathed a sigh of relief; they had done it. Bluebell was back on the road to recovery. At that moment, Hotdog came in, alerted by the commotion.

Alan reached out with his good arm and shook Josie, Hotdog and Derek's hands, "Well done, everybody; I could never have done it without you guys. Derek chuckled comically, "Oh shucks man, it ain't nothing," he said in his thick Irish accent before his tone became more serious, "No Alan, thank _you_. This was all your brilliant idea." As if on queue, HAL's voice also sounded, _"Congratulations, Dr Johnson. A most remarkable triumph in animal medicine."_

After stitching the cut on Bluebell's torso closed, and ventilating him with oxygen for a while to refresh his oxygen-deprived brain, Josie announced the operation complete. It was then when they became aware of the stench of sweat and blood that filled the tent after all those hours of painstaking work; all four of them were clammy, exhausted, covered in bloodstains, their throats dry from thirst and their stomachs rumbling with hunger. Continuing to keep Bluebell on oxygen, they opened the tent and stepped out, pulling the buck's stretcher between them.

None of the rabbits up top dared to even breathe, as Hotdog operated the pulley, hoisting Bluebell back up into the Honeycomb on his stretcher. What had happened? Had Alan's radical plan of replacing his damaged heart with Speedwell's, worked? Or was Bluebell dead? They all stared in silence as Alan stepped over the edge of the shaft and turning to face the Watershipers with the announcement, "Bluebell will live."

There was a second of silence, before the crowd burst into cheers; Violet had already latched herself protectively to Bluebell's side, crying with joy of relief. It was only then that Alan realised just how exhausted he was and sunk to his knees. Hazel rushed to his side, "Get some rest Alan; you've earned it. We'll take it from here." Without daring to argue, Alan, his eyelids heavy as lead, dragged himself to the burrow his companions were sharing as a dormitory. Without even bothering to remove his glasses, he collapsed on Lucy's empty bed and sunk into a deep, dreamless sleep, before his head even touched the pillow.

Author's notes: Another chapter gone! Coming up next, Bluebell's recovery and the hunt for Robbins begins. By the way, at the point where HAL outlines Bluebell's age, remember that one human year is equal to 2,5 for these future rabbits. Sorry about the delay but I was stuck at the airport in Aberdeen for a week and barely made it home. Merry Christmas! Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	61. Chapter 61 Setting Off Again

Alan had lost all sense of time by the time he woke up. His body still felt sore from his injuries; however, he felt stronger and his wounds seemed to be healing nicely. Then he remembered Bluebell. Had the operation been successful? How was he doing? He could hear excited voices coming from outside the burrow. Perhaps something had gone wrong?

Sitting up in a panic, he realised someone had removed his shredded clothes while he had been sleeping. Looking down, he could see his bare chest, which was covered in compressors and band-aids, dressing his wounds. Spotting the traveller's bag containing his wardrobe in a corner, he unpacked a clean pair of jeans and a shirt but couldn't find his glasses anywhere. As he did up his shoes, he heard a soft feminine voice behind him, startling him, "Looking for these?" Turning, he saw Hyzenthlay lying beside his bed, his glasses resting on a box beside her, where Josie had left them. Alan blushed in slight embarrassment; had she been watching him the entire time?

"Oh…eh…thanks," he said sheepishly as he took his glasses and put them on, allowing him to get a better look at her. The doe smiled back at him, "It's good to have you back. We were wondering when you'd awake; Josie wasn't expecting you to wake for at least another day."

"That long?" Alan asked surprised, "How long have I been out anyway?"

"A whole day and night," said Hyzenthlay, "Thethuthinnang, Vilthuril, Nelthilta, Clover and I took turns watching over you." Alan blushed again in embarrassment, "Watching over me? But I wasn't injured, at least not that badly. Why the sudden concern?" Hyzenthlay looked as if he had asked the most absurd question.

"_Why?_ Good Frith, you have given us back everything Woundwort had taken away from us; our freedom, our happiness, our very lives, we ought it all to _you_. The least we could do is be concerned about your well-being! You should see my friends; after all those seasons of slavery and misery, they are finally so happy and full of life. I suspect they might even start mating soon…"

"I am flattered dear, but I really don't believe I deserve all that credit; none of this would have been possible without Hazel and the others; they put in just as much effort and sacrifice to defeat Efrafa as I did. I am just one of the lucky ones to survive the final battle; there are many others that should have survived instead…"

"Don't flatter yourself Alan; you have done our kind a favour we can't possibly repay. Not only did you save us all from slavery but you've also resurrected the _true_ legacy of our forefathers; one that Woundwort had suppressed with his lies and cruelty. There isn't a single buck or doe here that doesn't respect that. Come, the others will be waiting to see you."

He followed Hyzenthlay to Bluebell's burrow; the jester buck lay curled up on some straw bedding, very much alive. Violet sat by his side, surrounded by her kittens, looking tired but much more cheerful; her kittens were suckling happily, indicating that their mother's milk had returned, now that Violet had overcome her depression following Bluebell's recovery. Her mate was finally awake, lazily admiring his newborn children crawl about the burrow floor. Josie, Hazel and Bigwig sat by their side, the veterinarian checking Bluebell's heartbeat with a stethoscope. The buck's face formed into a wide grin as he saw Alan appear.

"Well, if it isn't my saviour come to visit the resurrected; don't be shy chap, please come in," Bluebell said in his usual comical tone, making Alan breathe a sigh of relief; the operation had been successful. Sure enough, as he knelt beside him, he suddenly found himself pinned to the floor by Violet, who started nuzzling him lovingly, while whispering in his ear, "Thank you. Thank you so much!" Alan gently hugged her back and turned to Bluebell, "How are you doing old chap?"

"Not too bad, considering I had my heart _replaced_," replied the buck softly, gesturing at the thick bandages around his torso, which covered the stitched-up wound, where his late cousin's heart now resided. Josie, who had just finished checking Bluebell, turned to Alan, "He is doing fine; his new heart doesn't seem to be rejected by his body. Your hunch that Speedwell's tissue should match was correct. At this rate of progress, after a few weeks of rest, he'll be fully recovered."

"Good, I can't wait to get on my own four paws again. I will _have_ to, if I am to risk publicly asking Bigwig exactly what is this I hear about something… chummy going on between him and Hawkbit," he whispered sheepishly into Alan's ear, before bursting out laughing so hard, Alan thought it would give him a heart attack.

"Ease up chap; we didn't go through all this trouble so you can die from laughing now. Although it was actually a _joke_ that saved your life in the first place…" he said, staring at Bigwig, whose face was turning beetroot red under his fur, giving him a most hilarious appearance. Unable to withhold their laughter any longer, Alan and the others joined in, except for Bigwig who narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"I am warning you Bluebell; I don't care if this stupid joke saved your life. If you ever talk about this to _anyone_, you're going to get so much trouble that you'll wish you were dead!" Although obviously Bigwig didn't mean it, save for a sound beating perhaps, Violet didn't find it amusing in the least and frowned dangerously at the Owsla Captain.

"You keep your disciplinary ideas to yourself Bigwig! When my children go above ground for the first time, I expect their father to be _running_ alongside them," she said, nuzzling one of her kittens, while keeping a sharp eye fixed on Bigwig, who only grimaced in reply; obviously the prospect of the entire warren taking the mickey out of him was the Owsla Captain's worst fear. Bluebell's comical taunting was interrupted however, as Josie placed a plastic bag containing, what appeared to be, a raw chunk of bloody meat before him.

"Souvenir for you Bluebell; I know it's useless now but I didn't know what you wanted us to do with it…" Bluebell's face fell as he recognised his own old heart, now a lump of mutilated dead mass, which brought back memories of his late cousin. "How I wish I could talk to him one last time, to tell him how sorry I was; the last time we actually talked to each other, I remember him and Buckthorn telling me they no longer regarded me as their cousin and me retorting along the same lines. Oh Frith, I was such an idiot…"

"Bluebell, I know you might find this hard to believe, but Speedwell has in fact, already forgiven you and asks your forgiveness in return. It was on _his_ request that his heart was passed on to you, so you may have a chance to live and be with your family, the life Speedwell would have wanted." Bluebell listened intently as Alan recited to him everything the twins had asked him to pass on to him and Violet. Soon, Bluebell was on the verge of tears; not out of grief or regret, but of gratitude. To have finally earned Speedwell's blessing in mating with Violet, yet could no longer express his thanks in return, now that his cousin was dead, felt most touching. He turned to stare at his old heart, thinking, before turning to his friends.

"I want this to be buried with Speedwell. My cousin's heart now beats inside me, so I know a piece of him will continue to live on within me; I want him to also take a part of _myself_ with him as a token of apology, forgiveness and brotherly love, which I threw away so long ago. Could you place this into Speedwell's body, where his own heart once was?" he asked, pushing the bag containing his dead heart towards Josie, who nodded with a smile, "I will take care of that for you." She picked up the bag and placed it in the icebox, until it could be stitched into Speedwell's body before they buried him.

"Right, if you guys will excuse me, I better go check on Silverweed. It's nearly his feeding time." At the mention of 'feeding time' for Silverweed, Alan remembered the buck's catatonic condition when they had brought him back and turned to Josie with concern, "How's he doing?" The veterinarian shook her head sadly.

"All his vital signs seem steady and normal; but he is still unresponsive to stimuli. His muscles don't even twitch when I prod them. The only similar symptoms I have ever seen is with people in permanent coma." The news instantly caused Alan's heart to sink.

"May I see him?"

Josie led him to another burrow, where Silverweed lay on some straw bedding, still completely unresponsive, with Fiver at his side; the seer buck, probably in an act of gratitude for helping him bring Alan back, had been the first to volunteer to watch over the comatose mystic. Strawberry also lay beside him, his injured leg wrapped in an icepack, to bring down the swelling caused by the torn joint.

They all looked at Silverweed, who was staring blankly ahead, unblinking and his expression vague. Although it was clear that nothing more could be done for him, it hurt them all to see their friend reduced to this state; physically alive but doomed to probably spend the rest of his life as a vegetable. Alan turned to Josie, who was preparing a mixture of vitamins and unsweetened kitten replacement milk for Silverweed, "Isn't there something more we could do for him?"

"There is nothing we can do other than feed him and exercise him daily, to keep him healthy; perhaps someday he'll wake up on his own accord. Since this isn't the result of a _physical_ injury, there is no useful treatment I can recommend. Unless if you prefer to euthanize him, all we can do is wait and hope." Alan sighed; it seemed that Silverweed was beyond help. And currently, he had his own pending problems to consider: now that Bluebell was safe, it was time for him to go after his daughter and her kidnappers.

And so, it was ten minutes later that Alan met with Derek, Hotdog, Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, Holly and Campion, to discuss their new mission: to find Lucy and take care of Robbins. "I think it's best if I go alone; this is my fight, and this way it won't give him the opportunity to create more victims on my account. There is no risk of _Lucy_ being harmed if I show up since he wants her alive so greatly. Given that he thinks me dead and with a bit of luck, I should be able to catch him by surprise and sort him out." However, just as he had feared, his friends weren't satisfied with his plan of going on this mission solo.

"Alan, when will you get this straight? You are one of us now, so your problems are _our _problems. Robbins is our enemy as much as he is yours and we are morally obliged to help you defeat him."

"But he…"

"Don't waste your breath chum," Bigwig cut in, "I, for one, am coming with you whether you like it or not. You can't expect to fight a fully fledged opponent in that condition." At this point, Alan had to agree; indeed, his fractured arm and his injured ankle would seriously impair his fighting abilities, while Robbins, although unarmed, was probably in full fitness and health. Finally, he decided to assemble a small group to accompany him to Cowslip's warren, including Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, Derek and Hotdog.

Holly and Campion had volunteered to stay in charge of the warren in their absence. Campion would also send another patrol back to the ruins of Efrafa, to retrieve the dead, so their former comrades could be laid to rest with decency. They would have to do the same with their own fallen comrades but agreed to postpone the funerals until Alan's party returned, so they could all attend together. Then Josie stepped in, "I believe I am coming with you too."

"Thanks Josie but that won't be necessary. Besides, we only have two horses; it will be quite a delay as it is, having to share them between the _three_ of us," Alan said. However, the widowed veterinarian shook her head firmly, "I still have to find my son; I came too late for James and I am not losing my son too. If he came through the same way we did, then he might have made it to that other warren." Although Alan realised she had a say in this, he was seriously against the idea of her going anywhere near Robbins; the memory of his wife's murder still haunted him.

"Josie, this is too dangerous! Robbins killed my wife only to see me suffer; anyone close to me with him around, has a target literally painted on his forehead. Don't worry; if he is there, we'll find him." Unfortunately, this only seemed to make Josie more determined to tag along with them, "I can't wait any longer; I am sorry Alan, but I am going to take my chances with Robbins." At this, Bigwig lost his temper.

"You disapprove of taking unnecessary risks, yet now you insist on doing the most reckless thing imaginable! Don't you even comprehend the fact that Robbins is likely to try and kill any of us on sight? Stupid, fatheaded female…!" But Hazel cut him off before his temper could cause him to go too far and insult her. He turned to Josie.

"Josie, I haven't asked you to obey an order yet but I am afraid this time, I must insist. Until the threat of Robbins is taken care off, you should stick close to the warren. Bluebell and Strawberry are still unwell and there might be more wounded coming in. If your son is at Cowslip's warren, then rest assured that we'll bring him back safely." Although sceptical, Josie finally 'agreed' and turned to go check on her patients.

Although she knew they were absolutely right about Robbins targeting her if he realised how much she meant to Alan, she just couldn't postpone the search for her son any longer; her husband was dead and her son was apparently wandering out there lost and alone, if he wasn't dead already… No, she decided, she would be accompanying the others, danger or no danger. Doing some quick thinking, she headed for Bluebell and Violet's burrow. Strawberry was also there, desperate for some more lively company other than the comatose Silverweed. They greeted her warmly, which she returned before launching into the explanation for the purpose of her visit.

"I need your help guys. As I recall, you owe me a favour for saving your life Bluebell; I can't think of a better time to ask for that favour to be repaid." Bluebell nodded in agreement, "I see. Don't worry, you've come to the right rabbit. Now, all we need is a willing associate to take my place for the job since, as much as I hate to say this, I am still too weak and Violet is currently preoccupied with our children. But who…?" They turned to look at Strawberry, who shook his head, "I am sorry; I don't think I could go there again. I already have enough guilt to last me a lifetime." Then, suddenly, as if on queue, Hawkbit entered with a message.

"Holly and Campion will be assembling the patrol shortly; you and I are assigned to a search group, along with Dandelion. We will be…" Seeing the opportunity, Bluebell cut in, "Perfect timing Hawkbit; we have a little job for you and Dandelion: First, you can forget Campion's patrol. As soon as you're clear of the warren, instead, you will pick up the trail of Alan's group and follow them to their destination, as Josie's escorts." Hawkbit frowned, "What in Frith's name are you on about Bluebell? Have you gone around the twist or something?"

"No," said Bluebell, a wide grin on his face, which made Hawkbit quiver in anticipation; such a grin usually meant a prank that would leave the victim as the source of amusement for the entire warren, "But _you_ will end up going around the twist in _embarrassment_, when I tell everyone the story of Captain Bigwig's lover. I am sure everyone would have sore sides for days, when they hear exactly how chummy the two of you are together…" he said, fighting to hold back tears of laughter. Hawkbit however didn't find it amusing.

"Shut it, Bluebell! By Frith, when will this end? I have already told you, it was just Bigwig having gone around the twist, after messing around with those…those human drink things. If you really think I have _any_ feelings for that bullying oaf of a babysitter, you're off your rocker…"

"Then I guess there is no harm sharing a laugh with everyone…" He had just said the magic words as Hawkbit gulped nervously at the prospect; undoubtedly, the entire warren would laugh at both him and Bigwig till the end of time, not to mention the mighty veteran's wrath for making him look like a clown, "…unless you'd rather do as I ask, in exchange for keeping my mouth shut. You and Dandelion are born troublemakers; I doubt giving the others the slip and tailing Alan's group unseen would be much of a problem for you."

"Are you blackmailing me Bluebell?" snapped Hawkbit sharply; being ridiculed was one thing, but being forced to do something that would provoke Bigwig's wrath, not to mention Hazel's, both of whom were still sore with him for falling asleep on guard duty and letting Robbins escape, sounded even worse. As if reading his mind, Bluebell replied, "Bigwig will be mad at you anyway, if I let my tongue slip; only then, he will probably take it too personally and decide to settle with you himself. On the other hand, Josie can vouch for you and I doubt Hazel will be too harsh on you. So, what do you say?" Hawkbit groaned in exasperation; there was no way out.

"Fine."

After Bluebell had outlined his plan to Hawkbit, Josie returned to the dormitory and loaded her husband's rifle and even took a compass and water bottle; she didn't dare pack a rucksack, which would make Holly or Campion suspicious if they noticed. Then she went to join Hawkbit and Dandelion as they supposedly prepared to join Campion's search party.

After packing some supplies and weapons, Alan, Derek and Hotdog mounted their horses (since they only had two horses left, Derek and Hotdog would share one, while Alan carried all their equipment on his) and rode off, the rabbits running alongside them, heading north towards Cowslip's warren. Soon they had left their new home behind them. Little did they know that, not too far behind were Josie, Hawkbit, Dandelion and Campion, who had caught them trying to slip away but instead of taking them back to the warren had decided to escort them to ensure their safety, following them.

It wasn't long before they found one of Lucy's shoes, alongside a trail of recent horse tracks, indicating they were indeed on the right path. Since it was already evening and it would soon be nightfall, making travelling too dangerous, they decided to stop halfway to Cowslip's warren, camp in a rocky outcrop for the night and resume their journey in the morning.

After lighting a fire to keep any elil away, and enjoying a quiet dinner, the group made themselves comfortable on the grass and drifted off to sleep, completely unaware of some unforeseen and highly unwelcome midnight company lurking nearby, one that they fire couldn't keep away…

Not too far away, a dozen human mutants, survivors from the village Pete's plane had annihilated a couple of days ago, were making their way through the woods, in search of a new home. At the sight of the campfire, which, even for their primitive intelligence, was a sign that others of their kind were close, they made their way straight towards the camp.

At the sight of the group of sleeping rabbits, which was exactly what they needed right now to satisfy their hunger, they noiselessly circled the camp, preparing an attack…

Hotdog and Derek sat awake, supposedly on night watch, playing poker by the fire. Since neither of them had any money, instead they were using their shotgun and pistol shells as chips. Hotdog put down his pipe and checked his cards, "Give me two."

"Here's two; and I take one," Derek said, picking up another card, "Bet you ten." He placed a cartridge in the pot. Hotdog grinned, "Game's getting good. Okay, mate, bet you ten and I'll raise you ten!" He placed two cartridges in the pot.

"If you're not careful, you'll blow us both to kingdom come!" Derek hissed, hastily picking up Hotdog's lit pipe, which the smuggler had accidentally placed on the cartridge box, and handing it back to him. Hotdog took another puff, "What's the matter? Nervous?"

"Nervous? Ha! I just won; three queens," Derek replied placing his cards forward. Hotdog groaned as Derek pocketed up his winnings, "Fine, big deal; you've finally won a hand only after I have beaten you a dozen times in a row." Derek only chuckled in satisfaction as he reset the cards for another round. Suddenly, a snapping noise from close by caught their attention.

"What's that?"

"Sounds like…someone dragging a stick across a picket fence," Hotdog said, trying to make out any familiar sounds as they heard the noise getting closer through the darkness and all other night sounds suddenly cease; something was wrong. Derek shook his head, "But there's no picket fence out here. Hang on…" Picking up a lantern and their guns, they walked to the edge of the camp; they could hear a strange rustling sound coming from behind the bushes.

"Bloody hell…!" Both men froze in shock when suddenly, a dozen massive forms emerged from the shadows, surrounding them in an ambush. They raised their weapons to open fire, only to remember they had foolishly removed the cartridges, to use in their card game, "Oh crap…"

Alan suddenly woke as if he had been hit in the face. He could hear a commotion and a familiar odour of sweat, blood and putrid breath filled the air. He opened his eyes just in time to see a dozen humanoids storm the camp, brandishing their spears, clubs, blowpipes and arrows at them. Within seconds, they were all at the intruders' mercy.

His head spinning and a shade of rainbow colours blurring his vision, searched for his weapons' pack, only to discover it was lying beside his horse ten yards away, completely out of reach. Grabbing a torch from the fire, he struggled to keep the attackers at bay, while struggling to reach his guns. He could see Derek and Hotdog, also losing the fight, struggling in vain to fight back using their empty guns as clubs. But it was no use; out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rest of his companions being overpowered by the savages.

Before he knew what was happening, he was knocked over onto his back and felt several of his attackers seize his arms and legs, immobilising him. He felt the blood drain from his face as he saw another savage brandishing a massive stone axe, approaching. He watched helplessly as the executioner raised the bloodstained stone blade over his head, thinking of the irony of having come all this way, faced so many challenges, only to become food for his own descendents in the end! He stared at the humanoid about to kill him, whose grotesque hairy face bore a triumphant smirk, spelling something along the lines of, "Can you run? I think not!"

Suddenly, just when he was about to say his last prayers, a gunshot sounded from the trees and the executioner instantly crumpled to the ground dead. The other savages jumped to their feet, alarmed by this sudden and invisible deadly force, before another shot sounded and another savage fell dead. Not wasting the opportunity, Alan made a mad dash for his guns; in an instant, he, along with Derek and Hotdog, had recovered their guns and opened fire, killing or injuring the rest of the intruders. The few remaining savages, seeing that the enemy was stronger, turned and fled, their hideous shrieks and growls echoing in the night.

Still shaken from the encounter, they turned to look in the direction from where the life-saving gunshots had come. Josie emerged, clutching a smoking shotgun in her hands, followed by Hawkbit, Dandelion and Campion. Although rather cross that she had followed them, Alan couldn't help but feel grateful for her unexpected arrival. If she hadn't shown up, then he and his companions, out of an act of sheer stupidity, would have been slaughtered. Bigwig however, thought otherwise.

"What in Frith's name are you lot doing here? I thought I said nobody else was to come! What in Frith's name were you thinking Campion? I can expect such stupidity and insubordination from _those_ two duffers," he said, turning to glare at Hawkbit and Dandelion, who cringed, "But I expected better from _you_ and from you too, Josie!" he bellowed at the newcomers. Josie frowned.

"Should I point out Bigwig that because we thankfully decided to 'disobey' your orders, those…those _things_ didn't get you tonight!" she replied coolly, staring at one of the dead savages that lay at her feet. Unfortunately, this only seemed to infuriate Bigwig even further as he snapped back, "I will not be lectured by…!" But Hazel, seeing the mean-tempered captain about to emerge from under Bigwig's skin, cut in, "That's enough, Bigwig." He then turned to face the newcomers.

"While I disapprove of your decision to disobey orders and follow us, I still ought to give you credit; your unexpected arrival indeed saved our lives tonight." At that moment, another newcomer emerged from the foliage; it was Strawberry, who had decided to follow Josie at the last minute, but had fallen behind because of his injured leg. Bigwig rolled his eyes, "Great… Is the whole warren out checking up on us?"

"I had to come," Strawberry explained, "I have to confront my own demons if I am to ever put the past behind me." Hazel stared at each of the newcomers in turn, reconsidering.

"I suppose there is no point in arguing about this; it seems we're all going to Cowslip's warren together." Josie nodded back to her Chief in gratitude but Bigwig protested, "Are you sure that's wise Hazel-rah? We can still send them back…"

"No, you can't do that," Josie interrupted hotly, "I said I was coming with you and that's my final word. My son is out there and you have no right to stop me from seeking him out." Alan and the others sighed; it was apparent that Josie's mind was made up and nothing could persuade her otherwise. Finally, to settle the argument, Alan gave in and allowed her to stay, under the condition that she wouldn't do anything reckless from now on. Hawkbit and Dandelion, on the other hand, were given a stern scolding by Bigwig for their disobedience (Hawkbit earned himself an extra cuff on the head when he protested that Bluebell had threatened to expose his and Bigwig's 'love affair').

Although they had all taken quite a beating in the attack, there were no serious casualties. After Josie had finished tending to the injuries, which luckily included only some mild cuts and bruises, the group checked their equipment; there were no significant losses, so they decided to continue on to Cowslip's warren on schedule.

While putting the camp back into a little order, Josie turned to stare at the body of one of the savage humanoids Alan was dragging out of the camp, "So these are our _descendants_? My God, and for a moment I thought you were been attacked by _apes_, not humans. How did humanity become like this?"

"Remember what Drake said in his journals? About Hemlock snatching away some of those retarded children born in the HAB following the asteroid? After destroying their vocal cords, rendering them mute, he 'trained' them like wild hounds, to use them as muscle against humanity along with his own army. After all intelligent humans were eliminated, he discarded them into the wild, presumably to die. Some of them survived and evolved; however, because of the lack of speech from their ancestors, like an isolated society of feral children, they became wild and savage like primitives; Darwin's law of evolution in reverse. Human civilisation was all lost and forgotten…until we came along." Josie looked troubled, "So that means we're the only ones left of our original kind?"

"I am afraid so; that's why I intend us to recreate civilisation anew. But that's something for a later date. Let's get some sleep; if we set off at daybreak, we should reach Cowslip's warren by noon." As the settled down to sleep, Alan turned to whisper to Josie, who was sharing his sleeping bag, "I love you." Josie didn't open her eyes but smiled as she whispered back, "I love you too Alan."

Not too far away, Robbins and Vervain had just finished setting their traps: a dozen concealed pits, circled the perimeter of the warren, with sharp stakes planted upright at the bottom, waiting to skewer any unsuspecting victims that came this way. The pits had been carefully covered up with a bed of twigs and weeds, making them completely undetectable. In addition, a couple of noose snares had been set up at the foot of trees around the warren, as a second line of defence. The whole place was now booby-trapped and dangerous, awaiting any trespassers. Robbins turned to Vervain, who was licking his dirt-drenched paws clean.

"Perfect; everything is set. Too bad it isn't entirely efficient; even if we get a few, the rest might still make it through if they are a large group. All right, I am going back to the warren, to check on Cowslip. I want you to stand watch here but make sure you stay out of sight; report back to me when you have caught sight of any arrivals, including how many we have to deal with. And make sure you don't muck this up or I'll skin you! Understood?" Vervain nodded, slightly trembling, "Y… yes Robbins-rah."

Without another word, Robbins turned and left, leaving Vervain alone who, scared of the dark, crawled into a nearby hollow tree to hide and keep a sharp lookout, dreading the prospect of having to report failure to his new master in the morning.

Meanwhile, back at the warren, Lucy had nearly finished undoing her binds. After Robbins had left her, she had found herself with only Cowslip for company, who had sat by the entrance to the burrow, seemingly admiring her helplessness, with a sinister smile on his face which gave Lucy the chills, making her feel almost like an insect being tormented by the spider whose web she was caught in. Finally, tired of being stared at like an animal in a zoo, she had worked up the courage to ask Cowslip for a story. Surprisingly enough, her guard had been most happy to oblige.

Cowslip told her about his ancestor Greenweed, the founder of his warren, an estranged son of El-ahrairah and Laurel, who sought to restore rabbit dependence on humans as a solution to the harsh life of hunger, hardships and elil, that El-ahrairah's people were destined to lead. Although intelligent humans had disappeared following Hemlock's purge, Greenweed had managed to make a 'pact' with their wild descendants, who still retained the basic skill of breeding livestock for food. By accepting flayrah the natives gathered for them, Greenweed had declared a law that, for the good of the warren, their good life would carry the price of offering occasional sacrifices to their 'benefactors.'

By careful approach, he and his followers had managed to build a new way of life, dependant on the remnants of the long-lost humanity: the natives would supply them with food and drive off elil from their territory, and they in exchange would offer some of their people as a sacrifice on every full moon. In order for his subjects to cope with their hollow existence, Greenweed had taught them how to drive the truth out of their minds by using thoughts of false contentment. His descendants had quickly forgotten the ways of their kind and adjusted to this new existence. This philosophy had been passed on from generation to generation, all the way to Cowslip.

Despite feeling rather sorry for Greenweed who had apparently resorted to this way of life out of desperation, she felt appalled by Cowslip's pride for his ancestor's 'noble' philosophy. But when she had expressed her disapproval to Cowslip however, her guest had instantly reverted back to his insane and far-away expression, asking if there was anything else he could do for her. Lucy had seized the opportunity to request if she could be freed from her binds and be allowed to 'go for a walk.' To her dismay, Cowslip's madness didn't run as deep as that, and had advised her that her request could only be granted if she gave her oath of allegiance to Robbins, like the rest of them had done.

Leaving her in privacy, 'to think things over', Lucy had quickly realised that her freedom was entirely up to her. And indeed, she did have a plan up her sleeve: her pocketknife, which Robbins had overlooked, in her pocket. Working frantically, she had finally managed to cut herself free, luckily without interruption. By this time, Cowslip had drifted off to sleep, leaving the coast clear for escape.

Seeing her chance, Lucy crawled through the darkened warren as silently as she could and soon made it to the exit run. Fortunately, Cowslip seemed to be a sound sleeper and didn't notice her sneak past him. Nearly overwhelmed with joy, she crawled out through the entrance run and into the meadow outside. The sweet night air felt cool and refreshing; she was free and she had done it all on her own!

Quickly reminding herself that it was only a matter of time before her kidnappers would discover she had given them the slip (she nearly pitied Cowslip, whom she knew, was in for a lot of trouble for letting her escape) and that she still had find her way back to the Down, she set off, intent on putting as much space as possible between herself and this place by daybreak.

Unfortunately, fortune wouldn't smile on her twice in one night; she hadn't walked for more that five minutes, when suddenly, she run into a familiar figure on horseback, approaching from the opposite direction. Robbins, not expecting to meet anyone, barely managed to halt his horse in time before it could trample her, as they stared at each other in surprise. Lucy came to her senses first; she turned and bolted through the trees, with Robbins in hot pursuit.

Although she was a pretty fast runner, unfortunately, now she was barefoot, making it extremely difficult for her to run through the rough undergrowth, all the brambles and stones hurting her feet with every step. Robbins was quickly gaining in on her and she couldn't let him catch her now, not after she had made it this far. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case.

Just as she attempted to duck into some bushes, she felt a noose tighten around her ankle and next second, she found herself hoisted high up into the air; Robbins had chased her into one of his snares, which had snagged her ankle and now held her dangling upside-down from a tree like a boar in a trap. Lucy sighed in frustration; her escape attempt had been going like clockwork so far and now, she was a prisoner…again.

Robbins rode up to her, chuckling nastily at the sight of her dangling helpless, "A little reception for any uninvited guests; it really does the trick, doesn't it?" Lucy tried to punch him in the face but Robbins ducked and stepped back, just beyond her reach, shaking his finger tauntingly at her, "Tut, tut… Feisty, aren't we?"

"Just you wait!" she snapped, "My Dad will come for me and then you will be sorry!" To her utmost surprise, Robbins only sneered, "Dumb little girl. Your so-called father is dead; he abandoned you to go and fight the battle of your furry friends and died for them. You know why? Because he cared more about them than you and vice-versa. Why do you keep trying to run from me? I am the only one who truly cares about you and your future; it is _you_ who is forcing me to keep you a prisoner until you learn obedience. Why not obey me and give up this foolishness?"

Lucy was petrified; not so much about the usual lecture about Robbins actually caring about her, which she had always chosen to ignore, but rather from what her abductor had just said. Her father was _dead_? So Pipkin had been right? Had Hazel and the others decided to hide the truth from her to cover themselves? Perhaps Robbins had been right all along? She was so shocked with horror that she offered no further resistance as Robbins proceeded to bind her hands, before getting her down and leading her back to the warren.

Ten minutes later, Lucy was back in the burrow, securely bound; this time, Robbins had hogtied her, rendering her completely immobile. What's more, suspecting that she had had some means of freeing herself, he had searched her and confiscated the pocketknife, leaving her no possible way of freeing herself again. Now she lay flat on her stomach, unable to move an inch. She remembered all those times her captor had done that, to 'discipline' her; although he had always careful never to hurt her, lying completely helpless like this for hours on end, was highly frustrating to say the least.

After Robbins had finished securing Lucy, he returned to the main chamber to confront Cowslip, who gulped in fear as his master rounded on him in a cold rage, "You useless lout! I put you in charge of guarding her for a few hours and you almost let her escape! Be thankful I caught up with her in time or you would now wish you were born dead!" Cowslip trembled under Robbins' stern gaze, "M…my humble apologies Robbins-rah; it won't happen again." Robbins narrowed his eyes dangerously, "For your sake it better not. Now, Vervain and I spotted a campfire several miles away; they are coming for us just as I expected and should be here by tomorrow morning. But never fear; I have prepared a reception for them…

"What if things don't go according to your plan?" Cowslip asked, dreading the consequences of coming face-to-face with those troublemakers, who had already nearly killed him once. Robbins seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he replied, "I have also anticipated such a possibility so I've got it all worked out; I have been carefully inspecting your warren for anything else we could use to our advantage. And, to our good fortune, there is just what we need: The ceiling of the entrance run is made up of a massive boulder; the perfect means for setting another death trap, should our first line of defence prove fruitless." After explaining his plan to Cowslip, the two companions got to work, loosening the massive boulder that stood above the entrance run.

After a couple of hours of hard work, the backup booby trap was set. All the earth supporting the boulder had been cleared away, leaving only a stick, which Robbins had placed beneath it, to hold it up; a tight cord was rigged to the stick, which had been sawed through at midsection; anyone's foot tripping on it, would be enough to bend the damaged stick, causing it to give way and sending the boulder crashing down, either squashing the intruder to death, or else trapping him inside with no way out. Robbins smirked at the thought of whomever the trap would squash into jelly, giving him another step into power; Cowslip however, despite his sickly pleasure at the thought of those rabbits that had ruined him dying such a grotesque death, he still had some qualms.

"What about my warren? If that rock falls, it will seal up the Hall of Bones completely and we'll never be able to enter again; there is no other entrance or exit run. This is all I have left…" But Robbins reassured him, "It will be worth the sacrifice; your warren will become the tomb of our enemies, leaving their own warren for us to seize! I am sure you'd settle for something better than this rat hole." Cowslip nodded grimly. Although the outsider's warren on Watership Down was fair compensation, the loss of his warren would mark the end of his authority; it was obvious that from the moment he settled down at that new warren, Robbins would be his new master indefinitely. Still, having to obey orders was preferable than being left with nothing but an empty warren.

Some time later, when Vervain hadn't returned, Robbins begun to feel uneasy, "It seems like we have to proceed with Plan B. All right, I'll take the girl and move her to the graveyard, so they won't find her here. You stay here and be ready to give our friends a proper greeting…"

" You mean you're leaving me alone?" gasped Cowslip, now looking truly nervous. Robbins rolled his eyes, "All you have to do is stand aside and let them storm the warren; the trap will take care of everything else. Report back to me when it's done." Without another word, he picked up Alan's knife – his only remaining weapon and hurried to the burrow where Alan's daughter was being held.

Meanwhile, Lucy, who had overheard the conversation and realised her captor was about to move her to a new hideout, leaving a trap behind for anyone who came looking for her, was setting her own plans in motion: although restrained, she had managed to stand on her knees, so that her bare toes were facing the burrow floor. Carefully, she struggled to write a message in the dirt using her toe: "TRAP; AT GRAVEYARD."

Although it still meant that someone would have to enter here to find the message, inevitably walking straight into Robbins' trap in the process, there was still a chance the trap would fail and it was the only way of leaving behind a sign to let them know where Robbins was taking her. Just as she had finished, she heard Robbins coming; instantly, she lay still, pretending to be asleep. Sure enough, not a second later Robbins entered.

"Wakie, wakie; you and I are going for a little walk," he said, tickling her bound feet to 'wake' her. No sooner had she recovered from her squalling than Lucy found herself being hoisted into the air by her ankles, as Robbins flung her over his shoulder upside-down, like a traveller's bag. However, she smiled as she saw her message remain behind undisturbed, her captor not having noticed anything. He carried her out of the warren and headed off towards the ruined churchyard of Newtown Common, where he could keep her hidden until his enemies had been dealt with. The final encounter was near…

Author's notes: Coming up next, the final encounter with Robbins… The story is drawing to a close, folks! Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	62. Chapter 62 Poetic Justice Done

Alan's group were ready to continue on the remainder of their journey at early dawn. After gathering up their equipment, which now also included two additional horses, which the savages had left behind after the failed attack last night, for Josie and Hotdog, they set off. Now that it was daylight, they could clearly see the tracks left behind by the fleeing humanoids, as well as traces of blood from those that had been shot and dragged away by their companions.

"That's strange; I know we killed some of them, so where are the bodies gone?" Josie asked staring at all the tracks and bloodstains and even some of the savages' discarded belongings that littered the ground, but no sign of any corpses, including the ones they had dragged out of camp last night.

"Looks like those scavenging ape-men eat their dead," Alan concluded, "Possibly an old habit picked up from their ancestors that experienced the Ice Age, when food was scarce." Josie and the others rolled their eyes, "Charming lecture; and we have only just had breakfast."

They moved on, the rabbits following the traces of their old cent, which they had left behind during their original journey to Watership Down. It wasn't long before they found Lucy's other shoe lying on the trail where she had dropped it, dispelling any doubt that Robbins had indeed fled to Cowslip's warren.

By midday, they had reached the edge of the meadow, where the remains of Newtown Common stood; so far they had encountered no further trouble and had even found one of Lucy's socks on a bush, confirming they were on the right trail. Staring across the clearing, they could see her other sock lying on the grass on the far side; the last marker of the trail she had so cleverly left for them. Little did they know that someone else also knew about the trail and had taken certain preparations for their arrival.

As they crossed the ruins, heading for Cowslip's warren on the other side, trouble struck. Alan suddenly realised Fiver had fallen behind; thinking the buck had only paused to catch his breath, he slowed down his horse, to allow him to catch up. Only then did he notice that Fiver was having another vision; a sign of imminent trouble, "Everyone stop! Something's…" But it was already too late.

Suddenly, a yell was heard from Derek, followed by the loud whining of his horse. Turning round, they saw the horse had fallen into, what appeared to be, a pit in the ground. Derek, the ground now level with his waist, dragged himself off the furiously thrashing horse and got to his feet, as the others came to his aid. But as they tried to calm the horse and help it out of its entrapment, they realised it wasn't thrashing about in panic, but in _pain_; two sharp wooden stakes, which had been planted upright at the bottom of the pit, had pierced the horse straight through its torso. It continued to thrash about madly for a few more minutes until it succumbed to its injuries and lay still in death. Derek paled, realising how close he had come to be skewered like an ox on a spit.

"Brutal trap," Alan said, staring at the bloodstained tips of the stakes, now projecting through the dead horse's body, "No doubt a reception from Robbins, for anyone who came after him…" As if on queue, Dandelion gave a yelp as he suddenly fell through the twigs and moss covering another pit, only to be caught in the nick of time by Bigwig, "Watch it chum; can't you see this place is a death trap?"

"This is too dangerous; we'll have to find another way around to reach the warren," Hazel said, staring at the seemingly empty plain ahead of them; there was no telling how many more concealed traps could be out there, waiting to snare and kill any unsuspecting victims. But Alan shook his head, "By the time we have circled round, Robbins and his goons will have realised we're here and fled; we'll have no idea where to look for them next if they do. If we're to maintain the element of surprise, we'll have to take our chances here." He looked back at the outcrop, "I will go through first alone and mark a safe path for the rest of you to follow."

Picking up a long stick to feel the ground in front of him, like a blind man, he slowly made his way across the ruins of Newtown Common. After having found and neutralised several other pits on the way, he reached the far end of the clearing; Cowslip's warren was right behind the bushes ahead. Alan turned to his group and waved to them to follow. Carefully, the group of ten made their way across, following the path Alan had marked.

Suddenly, Bigwig picked up the scent of someone lurking close by, watching them. Peering over a rock, he was startled by a thin, dark-furred rabbit that had been crouching behind it. With a squeal of fear, Vervain sprang from his hiding place and bolted like lightning. But he didn't get very far.

Before they could even give chase, they saw Vervain, not looking where he was going in his panic, run straight through the rocky outcrop where the traps were…With a scream, he fell through the mossy covering of another pit that had been overlooked; a sickening stabbing noise was heard, followed by Vervain's screams of agony. They approached the pit, only to encounter a chilling sight: Vervain lay on his side at the bottom, one of the stakes driven through his left hind leg. Ironically, the trap, undoubtedly intended for them, had instead backfired on the very rabbit that had helped Robbins set it.

Staring down, they saw Vervain was still alive; the spike had completely pierced his leg but hadn't hit the bone or major vessels. Now the evil rabbit lay trapped and in horrible pain, struggling in vain to free himself. The others, having gotten over the shock of the gruesome sight, narrowed their eyes; Vervain had finally gotten his just deserts. The utterly desperate and suffering creature looked up at his enemies, pleading pitifully, "Help me…please…help me…don't leave me like this…"

"Well, well, well," muttered Alan coldly, "How the mighty have fallen. What happened to the scum of a rabbit who takes pride in inflicting torture and suffering on those lower than him? Why looking so down in the dumps, Vervain?" The others didn't even bother to blemish Alan; Vervain had gone way too far to be pitied anymore, including Campion, who gave his former comrade a look of absolute disgust. Vervain continued to plead, "Campion, please! We were childhood friends, Owsla comrades…" But this remark only seemed to infuriate Campion even more as he coldly retorted, "You led my father to his death, Vervain! I am no longer feeling so forgiving."

"I say we leave him right here," Bigwig growled, "The elil will soon put him out of his misery anyway; more than what this chunk of hraka deserves." Vervain, despite his pain, seemed even more terrified at the prospect of been left to die like this, as he continued pleading, tears of pain, fear and humiliation rolling down his face, "No…please…have mercy…don't sink to my level…" That last plead caused the entire group to fight the urge to suppress a laugh; proud, arrogant, pompous, self-righteous, cruel, bullying Vervain, Woundwort's lackey at heart, _denouncing_ himself in front of his enemies?

"Care to repeat that, Vervain?" Hazel asked coldly, "We didn't catch that last bit…" Vervain, unable to take the pain anymore, yelled, "FRITH OF INLE, YOU COLD-BLOODED HYPOCRITES! YOU _WANT_ TO WATCH ME SUFFER! DAMN YOU ALL! I HATE YOU!" In spite of Vervain's ranting, it was clear that they had no choice but to help him, for he was exactly the informant they needed to give them the inside lead on Robbins' hideout. Alan turned to the others.

"Bigwig, you help me on this side; Josie, you're up front with Strawberry. Derek, hand me your hatchet, will you?" Getting to work, Alan cut through the spike that had pierced Vervain's leg, while the Vervain moaned and panted throughout the whole process. Soon, the spike was cut at the base and came loose, but the splinter remained pierced into Vervain's leg. Alan paused, "Now, before we yank that out of you," he said coolly, "you've got a few questions to answer." Vervain, still panting and bleeding grotesquely, turned to stare at Alan, "Wh…what questions?"

"As you little scumbag already know, Robbins has kidnapped my daughter," Alan said, narrowing his eyes dangerously at Vervain, who couldn't suppress a shudder; if they knew he had participated in the abduction, it could mean his death sentence, "And I intend to get her back at all costs. And whether or not we offer you up as a free feast to the elil for everything you've done to us depends entirely on _you_. We have already seen how your new boss doesn't like guests knocking on his door; and you're going to tell us what other surprises he has prepared to greet us with."

"You don't understand; he threatened to kill me if I didn't' cooperate…Aaaagggg!" Vervain pathetically pleaded his innocence, but Alan, losing patience, suddenly twisted the stake still jabbed into Vervain's leg, cutting him off, "You know, I have a little evaluation for your answer in English Vervain: it's called, 'bullshit'! Need I repeat myself or perhaps you need a little more persuasion?" Unable to take the pain any longer and fearful of being left to die, Vervain finally spilled the beans.

"He…he's holding the ithe-kitten inside the warren. He said he would also be preparing more traps for you there, should you turn up. It's the truth, I swear on my honour! Please…I've told you everything I know…" Vervain gasped, quickly losing his remaining strength from the loss of blood. Although it was obvious that Vervain had no such thing as honour, Alan was satisfied.

Grasping the end of the stake, he suddenly pulled it out, causing the wound to bleed and earning a new scream of pain from Vervain, followed by a pant of relief as the pain lessened. He turned to Josie, "See what you can do for him; we are going ahead to check out and secure the warren. Campion, you and Derek also stay here and keep an eye out for any further trouble…"

Suddenly, Fiver's moaning diverted their attention; the buck was having another vision, "No…!" They crowded around him as he came to his senses, "What's wrong Fiver?" Fiver looked at his brother and then surprisingly, at Hawkbit, who raised his ears in surprise, "Oh…nothing. I…I stepped on a wasp, that's all." But Alan and Hazel could tell that his brother was hiding something. Quickly ordering the others to return tending to Vervain, Hazel, Bigwig and Alan turned back to the seer, "All right lad, what did you _really_ see?" Casting Hawkbit a quick glance, to ensure he was out of earshot, he turned back to his friends, "It's Hawkbit; I think he's in danger."

"Hawkbit? What's up with _him_? Don't tell me he's about to do something reckless again?" Bigwig asked sternly. Fiver shook his head, "I don't know; I saw him crushed by a falling rock." Hazel turned to look at Hawkbit, who was busy holding Vervain still with the help of Dandelion and Campion, while Josie gave him a shot of painkiller, "Then he must stay here where he'll be away from danger; the rest of us will check it out." Unfortunately, Hawkbit, who had just finished with Vervain, had returned to check on Fiver and overheard the last part of the conversation.

"Excuse me? If you think I am staying put because our great mystic visionary says I…" But Bigwig cut him off as he towered over the smaller buck, narrowing his eyes in warning, "I don't _debate_ orders Hawkbit; I _give_ them and I except them to be obeyed without question. And I order you to stay here with Campion and Derek and not go anywhere near the warren until we're sure it's safe. Clear?" Hawkbit's eyes were darting from Bigwig to Fiver, as if deciding who he should yell at; Bigwig, who would probably resort to giving him a sound beating in response, or Fiver, which would only earn him a scolding from Hazel instead. Finally, he decided not to push it any further and walked away, groaning in annoyance.

Realising that the grey-furred buck couldn't possibly resist the temptation to follow them, Hazel turned to Dandelion, "You make sure he stays here until we come back. I'd rather not assign Campion for this job; with Hawkbit's irritating attitude, things could quickly get ugly" ("Good, that big-mouthed insubordinate could use some Efrafan discipline," Bigwig said).

Leaving the rest of the group to watch over Vervain, Alan, Hotdog, Strawberry, Hazel, Fiver and Bigwig made their way towards Cowslip's warren. With every step, Alan could feel goose bumps running down his spine; almost as if he had a sixth sense of his own, warning him of the upcoming confrontation. Behind them, they could already hear Hawkbit arguing with Dandelion, who was blocking his way in a playful fashion, so he wouldn't follow.

Cowslip was pacing nervously back and forth outside his warren. After Robbins had left him to keep a lookout for those hlessil, with instructions to report back to him if the trap succeeded, he had been left alone. He kept striding around, feeling very uneasy; it was only his first day of servitude under Robbins and things didn't look too promising. Although he had known from the start that life under another leader and a _human_ nonetheless would mean a completely new and uncertain start for him, his decision was quickly losing its charms; Robbins was ruthless and had no qualms of sacrificing even his own followers to fulfil his plans.

Although Cowslip himself had no qualms about sacrificing those around him to suit his best interests, serving under Robbins seemed more than what he had bargained for; he didn't have a clue about real fighting or leading a warren under Owsla jurisdiction, since the key to his philosophy was literally, to pretend that your hardships don't exist. Yes, Robbins could fill the role of leader, but at what price?

Suddenly, Cowslip's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices coming from the bushes; the hlessil had returned. Quickly resuming his usual sickly-sweet expression of welcome, he turned to face the newcomers making their way towards him. Alan, Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, Strawberry and Hotdog marched up to Cowslip giving him deadly looks, while the sly buck grinned sickly, "Welcome neighbours. Greetings all. So nice of you to call, even when my warren has fallen on hard times…" he chanted in his usual sing-song voice, but was roughly cut off by Bigwig, "Spare us the welcoming routine Cowslip; we had our fill the last time we were here!" The sick minded rabbit frowned in displeasure.

"How easily good manners and gratitude are brushed aside… I offered you all shelter and you repay the favour by ruining me," Cowslip muttered, a glint of anger visible in his sly eyes as he turned to Strawberry who recoiled slightly, "Strawberry…You and Nildrohein have been missed round here…" Strawberry's eyes flashed dangerously, "Don't you dare talk about Nildrohein! She didn't deserve what she got!" As if reading the sadness in his eyes, Cowslip sneered in satisfaction.

"I see… She's gone to meet the Black Rabbit of Inle, hasn't she? How sad…and sweet. A fitting punishment for betraying her own flesh and blood…" Strawberry, furious, cuffed him hard across the face, "Shut up or I'll kill you as I should have done long ago!" Cowslip, bleeding from his nose, glared back at Strawberry, "Ungrateful traitor…and after I treated you like a son."

Hazel gave Cowslip a stern glare as he said coldly, "You best get used to it Cowslip; your fate is a well-earned punishment you brought upon yourself from your own greed. At least Nildrohein had the strength and courage to escape the grim fate you had in store for her; you, on the other paw, have now lost everything."

"Will you be staying then?" Cowslip asked, ignoring Hazel's lecturing, a hungry look in his eyes, "My offer of hospitality still stands." However, Cowslip's sudden change of attitude, from angry to welcoming, didn't go amiss.

"Sure it stands; you are a rabbit to keep your word after all. We all know _that_ for a certainty!" Hazel replied, rolling his eyes, "And no, we don't intend to stay…for long." At this point, Alan seized Cowslip by the throat and spun him round to face him, so they were almost nose-to-nose, "If you want to save your skin, tell me quickly, where has Robbins taken my daughter?"

"Daughter? What daughter?" Cowslip asked, faking innocence. Alan, losing patience, tightened his grip, "The girl he and Vervain brought here with them. Where is she, Cowslip? What have they done with her?" Cowslip shook his head in a most unconvincing way, "I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't seen Robbins since that hawk snatched him away during your last visit…" He only felt Alan's grip tighten around his throat even more, almost chocking him in the process.

"No? Tsk, tsk…Too bad!" In an instant, he had Cowslip pinned to the ground with an iron grip about his throat. Cowslip's eyes bulged in fear as he struggled to breathe, while Bigwig and Strawberry restrained him so he couldn't fight back, "Wait! Mercy! All right, I'll tell you! She's down in Strawberry's burrow!"

"That's the spirit," Alan said coldly, releasing his grip on Cowslip, while Strawberry and Bigwig kept the overweight rabbit firmly pinned to the ground so he wouldn't try and escape, "Now then, lead the way!" Cowslip instantly looked terrified at the prospect of venturing into his warren, confirming Vervain's story, that Robbins had prepared more unpleasant surprises for them down there, "I…I must protest. You don't need me to find your way around…" Bigwig gave Cowslip a wild cuff over the ears, growling, "Shut up and on your feet!"

"Really fellas, we needn't bother with him. Let's just let the poor blighter go," Hotdog said, thinking that his companions' attitude was becoming a bit extreme (he didn't know the full reason of the group's hatred of Cowslip). Bigwig gave him a nasty look, "He should consider himself lucky if I don't _kill_ him. Frith above, if I had my way, I would have ripped his throat out without a second thought!"

"Cowslip trades the lives of his people for food from the hand of those vile creatures that attacked us last night. He also plotted with Robbins to try and kill us when we were 'guests' here," Fiver said, giving Cowslip a look of disgust, "He is sick; this whole place is sick!" Hotdog frowned as he turned to glare at Cowslip, his multi-ringed fingers clutching the handle of his baseball bat tucked in his belt, as if tempted to use it, "I have encountered my fair share of sick scum, but this…"

"All right you, march!" Alan hissed at Cowslip, roughly pushing him forward into the entrance run. Trembling, the massive rabbit slowly moved down the tunnel, hoping that his master's trap wouldn't backfire on him while Alan and the others stood by the entrance, watching his every move. Carefully stepping over the trip wire, he reached the deserted Hall of Bones where he turned and saw, to his dismay, the outsiders had seen him step over the wire and now knew about the trap. Sure enough, Alan, having carefully observed Cowslip's footing, turned to the others, "All right, I'll go first; if something bad happens, don't try and help me."

His flashlight clutched firmly in his hand, he made his way down the entrance run. Spotting the trip wire, barely visible against the burrow floor, he stepped over it and reached the Hall of Bones, finding it deserted with no other signs of danger. Then he realised that the warren was completely deserted, except for Cowslip. But there was no time to worry about that now. Turning back to the entrance, he called to his companions, "All right, come on through, one at a time. And watch that wire in the entrance run!" Bigwig, Hazel, Fiver, Strawberry and Hotdog followed, all taking extreme care not to step on the booby trap as they came through.

"This place is a tomb," Hotdog commented as they stared around the deserted chamber. In contrast to their last visit, when the place was swarming with idle, yet healthy rabbits, the grant chamber was now empty and silent, Cowslip's 'disciples' having seemingly fled, "All right, let's split up; make sure you turn this place inside out. Go!" They headed off in different directions, searching all the runs and burrows for any signs of Lucy. Unfortunately, in their anxiety, they had completely forgotten about Cowslip, who, finding himself unguarded, sneaked back out through the entrance run. He was just about to bolt when he stopped dead in his tracks.

These hlessil were the reason his life was ruined; first they persuade those traitors Strawberry and Silverweed, as well as his ungrateful daughter Nildrohein, to desert him; then that other man-kitten comes along and finishes the job, leaving him with nothing but an empty warren. And now those ungrateful wretches return to gloat and ask for more? No, they would suffer for what they had done to him! And his chance was revenge was, ever so conveniently, already at hand. All he had to do was set off the trap, sealing them in and leaving them to die buried alive. And the honour of sealing the outsiders' doom would be his!

Carefully approaching the trip wire, he hesitated for a moment to ensure he was alone; then, with a triumphant smirk, he extended his claw towards the wire and gave it a tug, setting off the mechanism. Unfortunately, he had overlooked one little detail: because he was so overweight, he found himself unable to turn round in the narrow run to get clear of the collapsing rock. In an instant, the damage was done; the massive boulder came crashing down, pinning his forepaws beneath it.

A scream of pain erupted from Cowslip's mouth as he felt his paws squashed to pancakes beneath the massive boulder that had just sealed up the entrance to his warren. He struggled to pull free but to no avail; trapped, alone and in agony, Cowslip was left to the misery he had brought upon himself.

Alan strode through the sleeping burrows, searching for his daughter. There wasn't a soul to be seen; the warren was completely deserted. Then, suddenly, glancing inside another burrow, the light from his flashlight revealed something on the ground, something _artificial_. Reaching down, he picked up a portable distress transmitter, with its battery dead. For a second he was speechless; where had this come from? They hadn't been carrying any transmitters during their last visit and it didn't belong to Lucy either. That left only one likely candidate; Josie's missing son had indeed been here, possibly trying to pick up their trail. But then, where was he? And above all, where was Lucy? Maybe Robbins had heard them coming and fled, taking Lucy with him? Bigwig's voice brought him back to reality, "Alan, come here! We found something!"

Tucking the transmitter in his belt, he hurried, as fast as his injured ankle allowed, towards Strawberry's burrow, where he found the others looking at something on the floor. Leaning over, he saw Lucy's message scribbled in the dirt. The rabbits were sniffing the ground, recognising the familiar scent, "Lucy and Robbins were here alright. There's also the scent of another human, a stranger…" But Alan was more interested in the message itself; his blood chilled as he read the warning. He jumped to his feet, "Where's Cowslip? Is anyone guarding him?"

For an instant there was silence as they realised that, in an unimaginable display of stupidity, they had left Cowslip unguarded and that there was a message on the ground in front of them, warning that there was a trap. Then, it happened; a powerful vibration shook the warren and next second, the daylight, which was reflected throughout the warren on the gleaming fresco-covered walls, ceased; the entrance had been sealed up.

Hastily getting to their feet, they rushed back to the main chamber, where their suspicions were confirmed: the booby trap had been triggered, causing the massive boulder to come loose, sealing the only way out. There was no telling what had happened; Cowslip, finding himself unguarded and thirsty for revenge, had set it off, trapping them below and, ironically, also backfiring on the perpetrator. They could hear his muffled screams coming from the other side of the blocked exit. But it was of little consolation, as they were now trapped underground with no way to escape.

"Just great; it's Sandleford all over again," Bigwig muttered, as they stared at the collapsed entrance, struggling to breathe from all the dust that had contaminated the air as a result of the disturbance. "What an idiot I am; I for one shouldn't have left Cowslip unguarded! How in Frith's name could I have been so bloody stupid?" he growled in self-loathing, banging his head against the burrow wall in frustration.

"Swell…" Alan muttered grimly, shining his flashlight around for any other escape routes but finding nothing. Aside from the light coming from their flashlights, there wasn't a single particle of light to penetrate the darkness that had engulfed them or a single breeze to ventilate out the stuffy air slowly building up in the chamber where they were entombed, "That boulder must weigh at least 5-600lbs; it would take days to dig out of here."

"And there is no other way out of here," Fiver said, his voice quivering in fear, "What are we going to do?" Hazel looked back at the rock fall, "I think it's best if we stay right where we are. Campion, Derek and the others are still out there and they know we are down here; once they realise we haven't returned, they'll come to our rescue."

"But even if they come looking for us, how long do you think it could take them to dig us out? Could we even hold out that long?" Alan said grimly, taking in the seriousness of their situation.

"We have several days worth of food and water in our packs, for the journey," Hotdog said, trying to reassure his companions, "We could ration ourselves, long enough to dig another exit. With the others working on the other side, it should even cut the time in half…" But his words froze as they all remembered that they no longer had their packs at all! Not having foreseen this contingency, they had left everything outside the entrance, taking only their guns and flashlights with them. Aside from some scraps of flayrah left behind by the inhabitants of the warren from their last meal (at Cowslip's warren, where food was always provided by the savages, there was no need to stockpile supplies underground), they had no food or water to sustain them for a long stay.

There was no other way to put it; they were buried alive with the prospect of dying of hunger and thirst. And that was, if they didn't asphyxiate first; if the place was no longer ventilated then they were breathing the limited supply of air trapped in this closed space with them. Every breath was probably another step closer to death…

"Everybody calm down," Alan said, instinctively taking charge of the dangerous situation, as he had done so many times before, "The situation is bad; but we must not despair yet, otherwise we're already dead. The oxygen in here is probably all we have so everybody relax and try and take shallow breaths; we need to buy as much time as possible, if we are to stand any chance of rescue." After instructing Hotdog to turn off his flashlight to conserve battery power, which might be needed later on, the group settled down, to wait and hope for the best.

Meanwhile, Josie, with Campion's help, was tending to Vervain's injured leg; although it was quite a bad wound, the stake luckily hadn't caused any damage to the bone or nerves. Although it would take Vervain a few weeks before he could walk again and quite a while before he could run properly again, the sadist rabbit had been lucky; there would be no permanent disability left by the injury other than some scarring and perhaps a slight limp at worst.

Now that he was no longer in pain, Woundwort's former Head of Owslafa sat moodily, yet obediently, as Josie patched him up. Although it was a great insult to his pride to be forced to accept help from enemies, not to mention _humans_, Vervain couldn't help but feel amazed. _He_ wouldn't have done anything to help an enemy in trouble other than gloat over his misery; on the other hand, these outsiders, who owed him nothing but hate for everything he had done to them, were actually putting themselves at risk to _help_ him, when they could have just left him to his fate, in revenge for all the pain and suffering he had caused them.

As Josie wiped her hands clean, Vervain muttered, "Why? We're destined to always be enemies. Why risk yourselves for me?" Josie and Derek gave him a 'figure it out yourself' look but Campion replied, "Because everything Woundwort taught you - taught _us_ – Vervain, was wrong; power and authority are not accomplished by cruelty and brutality. If you want to be a true leader, then you must _earn_ it, even if it includes helping your fallen enemy. That's how Hazel-rah, a mere outskirter at his old warren, earned his chieftainship." Vervain couldn't even find the words to reply.

Suddenly, Dandelion's voice sounded behind them, "Hawkbit's gone! He caught me by surprise and bolted! He's headed towards the warren…!" Leaving Campion to watch over Vervain, the group chased after Hawkbit. Josie took out her walkie-talkie, "Alan, Hawkbit is coming in your direction. Alan? Hotdog? Can anybody hear me?" But there was no answer. Josie sighed; it looked like their long day had only just begun.

Meanwhile, Cowslip lay in agony, his forepaws still pinned under the massive boulder sealing the entrance to his warren. His carelessness had landed him in the worst possible situation possible; even if the hlessil somehow escaped from their entrapment, there was no way they would help him now, given that he had already tried to kill them…twice. He cursed Robbins; it was all because of _him_ and his plans that he was stuck in this situation in the first place.

Suddenly, he heard voices approaching from behind him. He couldn't turn to see who it was (he was trapped halfway down the entrance run, facing inwards), yet his sense of smell told him it was more of those hlessil, undoubtedly having come looking for their friends. Although Cowslip hated to be at their mercy, his survival instincts overrode his pride as he cried, "Help! Somebody, help me!" To his great relief, he could hear the voices getting closer.

"Oh, that's a lovely sight that is!" Derek said sarcastically, "Looks like our friend Cowslip got himself caught in his own cookie jar, haven't you, you back-stabbing little snake?" Cowslip's hopes instantly plummeted at those words. Another voice, that of a female ithe he didn't recognise, suddenly called, "Hey guys, come take a look at this! I found Alan and Hotdog's packs." Cowslip could hear them moving to and fro until Derek's voice bellowed over his shoulder, "WHERE ARE THEY?"

"In…inside the warren!" Cowslip gasped, the pain becoming too overwhelming, "Please, help me…" Unfortunately, realising what Cowslip had done, helping him seemed to be his visitors' least concern. Sure enough, another voice, which he recognised as Hawkbit's, growled, "Yeah right, like we're going to…" Suddenly, the thunder-like sound of a fire-stick sounded from the depths of the hill, where the warren was housed. The others jumped, "That was a gunshot; they're still alive! Come on! Hawkbit, wait up!" Desperate and in pain, Cowslip was, once again, left to his misery.

Back in the Hall of Bones, Alan and his companions sat, waiting for help to arrive. Half an hour had passed and the group were quickly starting to lose hope. Hazel, Bigwig and Strawberry sat close to the blocked entrance, hoping their enhanced hearing would alert them if someone came looking for them. Fiver lay curled up on the ground, moaning, "It's cold down here Hazel…"

"And there is nothing to eat or drink," Hotdog moaned, rubbing his rumbling stomach, "You think we'll be stuck down here till we get to the point of starving down into nothingness or will we resort to eating each other?" he asked only half-jokingly. Fiver gave another whimper at the thought of desperation leading his companions to eating him (he was the smallest, thus he would be the most likely candidate), "Oh, I don't like to think about it…" Bigwig rolled his eyes, "Then stop talking about it!" He narrowed his eyes to Hotdog to shut up with his wisecracking sense of humour, "Sorry."

"You know…" Hazel said as he sniffed the air, "I can smell fresh air coming in from somewhere… There might be another way out of here." He continued sniffing the air, trying to trace the source, but Hotdog shook his head, "Don't waste your breath pal; it's just the carbon dioxide getting to your head…" But Alan cut him off.

"No, he is right! Remember, when the ape-men would come for their 'harvest', Cowslip would somehow always evade capture, while still remaining at the warren? What if he had a secret escape route for himself somewhere in here?" They turned to Strawberry, "Do you know where Cowslip took refuge during the invasions?"

"He would hide in his burrow until it was all over," Strawberry replied, "But I don't know how he always managed to evade capture. I sneaked in there once; there is no secret escape run in there or anywhere else in the warren. It is almost as if Cowslip can magically remain immune to the bad air the ithel use to put us to sleep…" But Alan had already heard what he needed, "So he must have some means of ventilation back there, to avoid the gas; and that means a route back outside. Let's go!"

With Strawberry leading the way, they set off into the depths of the warren, towards Cowslip's king-sized burrow. Bigwig looked around, "It looks like Strawberry was right; there is no secret exit here." But Alan, who had spotted the outlines of the bricks and mortar forming the circular wall of the old well they had seen in the main chamber, had a suspicion. Sure enough, as he stepped forward and tapped the wall with his knuckles, he heard the sound reverberate, indicating the other side was hollow; the well was not filled with earth as he had originally assumed. Pressing his ear against the wall, he could hear the faint whistling of the air, coming through the cracks between the bricks.

Striking a match, he held it close to the chipped mortar to test his theory; sure enough, the flame went out from a soft draft coming from behind the wall, "See that? There's a draft coming from back there; this must be it." Clearing away the straw bedding and the leftovers from Cowslip's dinner, they saw it; a small, hidden hole at the foot of the wall, formed from several loose bricks, sunlight pouring through it. "Cowslip probably used this hole as a ventilation duct to breathe while the breeders gassed the place to pick out their victims. By taking cover in here, this small hole was enough to keep his burrow clear of the gas, while the rest of the place got chocked up. Clever…"

"But how do we get out through that little hole?" Strawberry asked, pushing against the wall with his forepaws, as if trying to make it give way, "It's completely solid!" But Alan smiled, as he calmly took out his shotgun; Hotdog, realising what his friend had in mind, also took out his own weapon. They turned to the rabbits, "All right, everybody get back. Out of the burrow!" The rabbits followed their friends' instructions and retreated outside the burrow, out of the line of fire. Alan and Hotdog aimed their weapons at the brick wall, "Fire!"

Both weapons went off simultaneously; the shower of bullets hit the wall, chipping away at the old bricks. Bit by bit, portions of the wall disintegrated into fragments, slowly enlarging the hole. Soon they were nearly through; less than an inch of brick remained between them and the other side. Taking out his baseball bat, Hotdog swung it over the patch of ruined wall, causing it to shatter. The last few chunks of chipped brick finally crumbled, revealing a new hole in the wall, big enough for them to squeeze through. Alan peered through and saw the shaft of the well; a circular, vertical pit, about six feet wide, with its brick walls coated in years worth of brambles and ivy. Earth and dead branches covered the bottom, having piled up down there over the centuries.

Crawling through the hole, he helped the others through (Strawberry with some difficulty due to his overweight) and they all crowded in the narrow shaft. They inhaled deeply, relieved to be out of that asphyxiating tomb; but their happiness was short-lived however as they realised that there was no way out of the well. Although only twenty feet deep, it was too high for any of them to reach the top and the walls were completely vertical, making it impossible to climb.

"So, what now?" Bigwig asked, staring around at their new entrapment, "There is no way out of here." Alan considered for a moment, "I need to stand on your back Bigwig." The burly veteran complied and Alan stood on his broad shoulders, struggling to reach the top; unfortunately, it still remained several inches out of reach, "No use, it's too high." They all sighed in disappointment at having come this far only to hit a dead end, when suddenly Strawberry called, "Quiet, I think I can hear someone!" They all listened intently; sure enough, they could hear voices approaching, right above their heads. The voices of their companions, undoubtedly searching for them, were unmistakable.

Before anyone could start shouting to draw attention, the bushes obstructing the top parted and a grey rabbit, who had been walking up there but hadn't seen the hole, fell through, landing on Strawberry, breaking his fall. The massive buck groaned, pushing Hawkbit off of him. Bigwig narrowed his eyes, recognising the newcomer, "What are _you_ doing here? I thought I told you to stay…" Then they heard Dandelion's voice calling.

"Hawkbit! Where are you, bucko?"

The group instantly started shouting as loud as they possibly could, to draw attention, "Down here! Josie! Derek! Dandelion! Campion! We're down here!" They could hear the sound of more approaching footsteps getting nearer; soon, the bushes covering the top were pulled back and they saw, to their utmost relief, the faces of Derek, Josie and Dandelion looking down at them with expressions of relief. Dandelion glanced at Hawkbit, "What are you doing down there? We are supposed to be rescuing the others, not having to rescue you too!" The others only chuckled in amusement; they were saved.

A few minutes later, everyone had been pulled out by rope, dirty but otherwise unharmed. While Hazel explained to the others what had happened, Alan took Josie aside. She gasped as he handed her the distress transmitter, "Oh my God… This is from Jamie's glider… Any other sign of him?" Alan shook his head, "No…but I know someone who might know something more."

Cowslip, feeling his forepaws starting to go numb from lack of blood circulation, was near exhaustion; after the hlessil had left him, all his hopes of rescue, even by begging for mercy, had vanished. There was no other way to put it; he was doomed to die a horrible death. Even if he could somehow manage to get free, if his forepaws were crushed, then he wouldn't be able to survive for long; he wouldn't be able to run, dig or fight properly anymore. Perhaps, if he were lucky, some elil would get to him and put him out of his misery…

As he lay there, giving in to his grim fate, he heard the voices of the hlessil returning. Alan, Josie, Derek, Hotdog, Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, Hawkbit, Dandelion and Strawberry crowded around the trapped rabbit, "All right, now before we even _consider_ helping you out of there ("You aren't going to _help_ him, are you?" Bigwig asked), you have to answer a few questions," Alan said coldly. Cowslip panted, "Questions about what? Haven't you done enough?"

"Sometime after we left, I believe you had another human visitor. What happened to him?" Alan asked. Cowslip, seeing that he had no choice, if he wanted to have any chance of escaping his predicament, explained, "A few days after you left, a wondering young ithe came to my warren looking for you. When he discovered my secret, he tried to persuade some of Strawberry's old friends, who had befriended him, to leave with him and seek you out. But, our breeders, who had lost their previous bounty to you, returned on an unscheduled invasion and took everyone except me. That ithe was also taken and I never saw him again…"

They all turned to stare in the direction of the savage village; if Josie's son had been captured, then maybe he was still alive? But then, Alan remembered Pete's plane crashing and annihilating the village; if the boy had been held prisoner there when that happened, then that would only mean, he had perished in the devastation along with the rest of Cowslip's rabbits. Josie seemed to be thinking along the same lines as she sunk to her knees sobbing; Alan put a comforting arm around her, "I am sorry Josie."

He held her close, trying to comfort her, realising how awful she must be feeling, having experienced exactly the same life-changing tragedy as she had. Her entire family was gone, dead. The others were also looking at her sadly, with slight expressions of guilt; technically, it had been _their_ fault that the savages had decided to remove their 'livestock', only to unintentionally lead Jamie McEwen and the rest of the rabbits from Cowslip's warren to their deaths.

"Oh dear God, why? First James, now my son…everything gone…" Josie sobbed as Alan gently turned her round to face him, "Josie, listen to me; your husband and son are gone and aren't coming back. I understand how much it hurts, but I must insist that you get over it and soon. When my wife died, I spent a year trying to deny it and it only caused me more pain. Your husband died so you'd have a chance to start anew. And your son… You have to be strong and look ahead. You may have lost everything from your old life, but you still have me…_us_. Josie, please?" Slowly, she looked at him, her eyes red and tearful, and nodded, "Thank you Alan."

He turned back to Cowslip who was still moaning and begging for help, "Bigwig, have Hawkbit, Dandelion and Strawberry start digging that oaf out of there; he's not worth leaving there till he needs an amputation." Bigwig nodded grimly and gave the order. Giving Josie a few minutes alone to pull herself, Alan got his weapons ready. "Where are you going?" Derek asked.

"The message we found down there said that Robbins is hiding at the graveyard; that's where Lucy must be so that's where I am going." He turned to leave.

"Wait, don't you need any help?" Hazel asked, but Alan shook his head, "Two down; one to go. And he's all mine!" He turned and headed in the direction of the graveyard, where he expected to confront his foe…or meet his doom.

Author's note: Coming up next, the final confrontation with Robbins…Who will win? Enjoy and please review. Until next time then!


	63. Chapter 63 Robbins' Last Stand

Hidden inside the ruined church, Robbins was nervously pacing back and forth, waiting for Vervain or Cowslip to arrive with some good news. Lucy lay on the stone floor at the far end of the nave, where the long-gone altar had stood long ago, still bound hand and foot.

So far there was no sign of either of his associates coming to report success or failure; although he certainly wasn't concerned about _their_ well-being, given that they were nothing more than disposable assets to him, who only followed him to suit their own interests, he needed as many followers as he could get. He mind kept going over everything he had discovered when going through Drake's journals; that journal was a priceless treasure map, pointing the path to absolute power…

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of gunshots coming from the direction of Cowslip's warren; his enemies had arrived and, by the sound of it, were gaining the upper hand. If that was the case, then it was only a matter of time before they came for him as well; no doubt his two pathetic associates would give him away to save their own necks. But he wasn't about to be chased away like a coward. Cunning and ruthlessness had been his allies for years and had served him well; now the time had come to use them once more.

He turned back to Lucy, who was still wriggling in her binds, struggling in vain to free herself. He couldn't confront those coming after him and guard the girl at the same time; her screams for help alone would foil any ambush, ruining everything for him. And the hopeful expression on her face told him that was just what she had in mind. Hastily going through Pete's survival kit for anything useful, he took out a roll of emergency duct tape. Pulling her upright on her knees to face him, he unwound it.

"Hold still and look at me," he ordered, preparing to gag her. Although Lucy had no fear being tied up, having often considered it a fun game, being gagged was another story. Due to a childhood fear caused by an accident she had had as a toddler, of nearly suffocating on a garbage bag she had been using as a scarf, she was absolutely terrified at the prospect of having her mouth covered with tape, especially when all tied-up and helpless like she was now. She backed away, as much as her binds would allow, shaking her head 'no'.

Robbins felt his temper rise; taking 'no' for an answer had never been one of his virtues. For an instant, he felt tempted to slap her to force her to comply, but managed to restrain himself, reminding himself that this girl was the last remaining link to the only woman he had ever loved; the one that Alan had stolen away from him along with a life that should have been _his_. If he were to gain her trust and hopefully, make her a part of his life someone, he would have to watch his tactics. He could save his violence for his _enemies_; this girl was an exception and he didn't want her to hear him kill her friends.

Doing some quick thinking, he took out a single-use syringe of morphine from the first aid pouch in Pete's survival kit. Pinning her to the ground by her shoulders, he jabbed the needle in her left thigh, injecting her with the anaesthetic. Surprisingly enough, he couldn't suppress a shudder from her instant cry of pain from the needle, before the morphine, meant to quickly anaesthetise an injured pilot following a crash landing, put her to sleep.

With her safely passed out and still securely bound in case she awoke before he returned, he turned and hurried out, to go and inspect the outcome of his traps. As he strode among the headstones, going for his horse, he suddenly heard someone clear his throat behind him. He spun round only to spot someone standing in the shadows of some nearby trees. Instinctively, he drew Alan's knife and pointed it in the direction of the figure, "Who the hell are you? Come on out now or I'll kill you!" To his surprise, the figure didn't seem the least scared by the threat, as he calmly stepped out of the shadows, revealing his face, as he coldly replied, "Hallo to you too, Fields. Long time no see…"

Realisation and surprise struck simultaneously; Robbins stood petrified in shock as he stared dumbstruck back at his nemesis, whom he believed to have died in the destruction of Efrafa. And what's more, he had just called him by his _birth name_, which he had abandoned long ago, a secret that no living soul had ever known about. Was this a hallucination? Or a nightmare? He tried to speak but found he couldn't, almost as if he had just swallowed his tongue. Alan raised an eyebrow as he stared at the saliva dripping from Robbins' open mouth.

"How did I survive?" he asked, interpreting what Robbins was probably trying to say, "With difficulty. A lot of it. How did I find out it was _you_ all along? Well, that's rather complicated to talk about…" Robbins, finally having regained the use of his voice, replied softly, "So…so you know then?" Alan nodded, his expression cold and stony.

"What the hell happened to you Fields?" he asked, inching closer to his former friend; he could now clearly see Robbins - or rather _Fields'_ - straw-coloured hair under the fading black hair dye that the man had applied to change his appearance, as well as those familiar beady eyes that shone behind the face that had been completely changed by plastic surgery, "How did you become the monster you are?" Renewed anger seemed to override Robbins' fear and confusion at these words, as his face became contorted with fury. He was about to lash out at Alan with his knife but found himself staring down the muzzle of Alan's revolver, aimed directly in his face.

"Not so fast Fields; you are not going anywhere until you've given me back my daughter. This fight is between you and me; you let her go and then we can talk this out." Robbins only seemed to regain his swagger as he sneered, "You're too late; I butchered her and enjoyed it!" To his surprise, Alan, whom he had been expecting to break at the news, only frowned, "Your lies won't do you any good this time Fields; I know for a fact that Lucy is the only person whom you'd never dare harm." Robbins' sneer instantly vanished, only to be replaced by a purple hue colour of anger and hate that covered his face.

"No, I wouldn't… Because she was supposed to be _my_ daughter, not _yours_," he growled back with an expression of naked hatred, as he spat in Alan's face. The man didn't even break his gaze, as he retorted coldly, "And yet, you went and killed Mary in cold blood. What kind of love do you call that, huh?"

"She was already dead as far as I was concerned," Fields replied coldly, as the two enemies circled each other, "From the moment she turned her back on me and married you, I couldn't bear the thought of you living the life that was supposed to be _mine_. She's dead as a punishment to both of you for betraying me."

"We were the only_ true_ friends you ever had Fields," Alan said, "_Why_ did you do this?"

"Because I was nothing but a _sidekick_, a pitiful lapdog to you and the rest of my so-call friends who sided with you and never defended me." Alan listened intently as Fields continued his confession, "I swore I would never be inferior to anybody ever again; I would become someone the world would fear and respect. After I left you, I travelled far and wide, established many useful contacts, changed my name and appearance and slowly made my way into power; it was around that time that I met Sergey and joined his ranks."

"And he just took you under his wing?" Alan asked in amazement, remembering the skittish inexperienced fellow Fields had been in his teenage years and therefore, the least likely person to be admitted in a ruthless terrorist faction like Red Hand, where weakness did not belong.

"It wasn't easy," Fields said, "Every Red Hand recruit had to earn his place among Sergey's ranks; my first task was to kill my unworthy parents, to prove myself. How much satisfaction it gave me when I burned their house down with them trapped inside; I watched as the scum that had abandoned me when I was born, and had since had another child to replace me, scream in their death agonies. The first part of my revenge was complete." Alan, feeling sick at Robbins' story, listened on.

"For the next few years and throughout the war, I kept working for Sergey as his eyes and ears among his enemies including the Ministry of Defence, living a double-life; at one point, I was forced to fake my own death after my cover was nearly blown. I have never used my family name again since. Not that I cared; Sergey had given me everything I had ever wanted…except what you had stolen from me. And then, the opportunity for the final part of my revenge presented itself, when your brother-in-law's name turned up on Red Hand's hit list; one might say it was fate doing me justice."

"Sergey knew nothing about the connection between us; and since I had become his most trusted henchman, he let me pull the strings as I saw fit. So I set out on my ultimate goal: to make you pay for stealing my life away!" Alan narrowed his eyes at these words but continued to listen.

"After we killed Millard and tracked his disk back to you, I set my revenge in motion; with a little help from Sergey's pathetic son Drake, I had you and your family walk straight into my waiting hands. I knew your character well; you always venture into danger, leaving those you love at a safe distance. My men had specific orders not to kill you but only to _stall_ you while I went to claim my justice. Mary didn't even remember me; like you, she had discarded me like garbage and I repaid that betrayal in kind by putting a fitting end to her sickening existence. But your daughter was a different matter; she had never heard of me and thus could make up for the life that should have rightfully been mine."

"By _killing_ the woman you loved and kidnapping our daughter to claim her as your own by force? Have you any idea how much I suffered because of your doing?" Alan retorted in anger. Fields' expression however did not show the faintest trace of remorse as he coldly retorted, "Do _you_ have any idea how much _I_ suffered Alan? Your brother, who had always hated you, walked out on you and died without ever making amends; he was lucky. But when Mary walked out on me, only to leave me with the knowledge that she was living a life she was meant to be sharing with _me_, hurt tenfold compared to _your_ pain!"

"But _I_ didn't turn Mary against you!" Alan bellowed, "Fine, you're right, I _did_ fancy her from the start but I _never_ encouraged her to leave you. And as I recall, you had left Mary at the mercy of two thugs while you ran to save your worthless neck, like a frightened little girl. You brought it upon yourself!" Fields' eyes flashed with fury at the mention of the worst memory of his life, yet showed no sign of remorse for his actions.

"I knew there was no turning back for Mary but Lucy could still accept me as her father someday; that's why I faked her death and kept her hidden from the authorities, as well as from Sergey, who wanted your entire family dead to eliminate any loose ends."

"But if Sergey wanted me dead at all costs, then why the delay?" Alan asked grimly, "I spent over a year living in misery, yet nobody tried to kill me until Derek showed me your letter." Robbins only sneered in response, "I persuaded Sergey to let you be, while we watched your every move, so you could supposedly lead us to Millard's disk, even though I figured you didn't have it. Personally, I couldn't resist watching you suffer! And I enjoyed every minute of it!"

"What about Derek's guidance system? How did it end up in Project Black Inferno?" Alan asked, cutting through Fields' gloating. The man sneered, "I stole the schematic from his personal files; I thought it would be a nice touch to have a little reminder of an old friend used in the weapon that was meant to change the course of history. For Derek, it would have only created a scandal that would have ruined him, as part of my revenge for him siding with you over me. Likewise, it was I who persuaded Hotdog's clients to call in his debts at the perfect moment when he couldn't pay, so they would make him pay with his blood instead."

"What about Hazel and the others? Why did you have against them when they had done you no harm?" Robbins' sneer broadened in self-satisfaction, "It was not so much what I had against _them_ as to what I had against _you_; I could see how your newfound friendship was pulling you out of the hell I had cast you in; and seeing you happy again was something I couldn't allow, not when I had made it my life's oath to watch you lose everything. I could see how much they meant to you; their suffering and eventual destruction would be another stab to your tender heart…" Alan had heard enough.

"Only this time, you've failed; Sergey and Woundwort are both dead and now _you_ are the one left with nothing but your miserable life!" he spat in satisfaction at the irony; Fields' own attempts to destroy him had backfired on him, leaving him alone and with nothing to live for. The man only sneered in response.

"A minor problem that will soon be amended…properly," he glared back at Alan in renewed anger, "I should have killed you straight away at the farm; that's one mistake that I will remember not to make again…" But Alan interrupted his hollow threats.

"Get out of here Fields; leave this place and never return. In spite of everything you've done to me, to my friends and family, I am grateful that at least you protected Lucy from Sergey. I will repay the favour: if you leave now and stay out of my life forever, I promise you will not be harmed." Robbins sneered in response, "Compassion and mercy; the typical traits for a loser like you…"

"Then you'd rather we resort to the _alternatives_?" growled a dangerous voice, interrupting the conversation. Alan and Robbins both turned and saw Bigwig standing close by, flanked by the rest of their group, who had followed Alan, unable to let him face his nemesis alone. Alan felt goose bumps trickle down his spine, remembering what had happened last time he had fought Robbins with his friends at close range, "What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay away…!"

Unfortunately, in that second of distraction, Alan wasn't watching Robbins; not missing the opportunity, the crafty man suddenly snatched the revolver out of Alan's hand. His sneer froze as he saw Derek and Hotdog instantly aim their own guns at him in warning. Alan, although unarmed and at gunpoint, maintained his calm composure as he stared back to Robbins, "My terms still stand, Fields; it's your choice."

Robbins seemed to be considering his options as he cautiously walked towards his horse, still brandishing the revolver, as if expecting someone to change his mind and attack, giving him the excuse to strike back. As he grabbed the reigns, his face burned with hate and jealousy at the sight of Alan surrounded by his friends and family, with Josie lovingly holding his hand in reassurance. Unable to resist, his lip twitching with jealousy and hate, he raised the weapon in the direction of Alan's head.

"You've only got one shot," Alan warned him, "And it will take much more than that to stop me." But, surprisingly enough, his nemesis didn't lose his swagger, "Then I'll just have to put it where it will cause you the most _pain_, won't I?"

Alan realised what Robbins meant to do, a second before it happened. His nemesis suddenly turned the revolver away from him and pointed it at Josie; there was a gunshot, a scream, and then Josie crumpled to the ground, a bullet wound blown into her side. In an instant, Derek and Hotdog had turned their guns on Robbins, but the man had already mounted his horse and was riding off into the distance at breakneck speed.

"NO!"

"Oh my God, what have I done?" Alan felt his insides turn to ice as he knelt beside Josie, who was moaning on the ground, blood trickling out from under her blouse. Alan felt as if he was about to be sick; had his decision to show Fields mercy only brought about another tragedy? Hastily tearing the bloodstained blouse open, he saw, to his utter relief, that although the bullet had completely penetrated her body, it had been a sloppy shot and hadn't struck any organs. The others crowded around, trying to reassure her and Alan, who could think of only one reassuring thought over and over: _She'll live_.

Robbins rode off as fast as he could, eager to put as much distance between himself and Alan's group, the empty revolver still clutched in his shaking hand. Although he had seen the girl struck by his bullet, he wasn't sure it had done its job; if the girl survived, his final attempt to make his nemesis suffer would be futile. Still, he couldn't go back to find out now; they would be upon him like wolves if they ever saw him again.

As he rode on towards the sunset, he finally came to a bitter realisation: he was completely alone and with absolutely nowhere to go. Although he had escaped unharmed, his luck had run out; all his plans had been foiled, he had no recruits, no resources, he had lost Lucy, and he had even lost Drake's precious journals. Now he was stranded and alone, more alone that any human being had ever been. Soon, Alan's words dawned to him; he had lost everything he had ever cared about and was now doomed to a lifetime of exile in a world where he didn't belong. And it was all thanks to _him_…

Fuelled with a renewed determination, Robbins tossed away the empty revolver and drew his last remaining weapon: Alan's commando knife, the one he had stolen from his nemesis back during the storming of Efrafa. Grasping it tight, he made up his mind; he would not run like a coward…not now, not ever again. Alan was the one responsible for his fate and he wouldn't rest until he had destroyed him and everything he stood for…or died in the attempt. Swinging his horse round, he galloped back towards the graveyard.

Meanwhile, Alan and his friends had moved Josie into the church, to treat her wounds. Although bleeding and badly shaken from her injury, fortunately she was out of danger. There, Alan had also found Lucy, bound and anaesthetised, but otherwise unharmed, Drake's case beside her. They had just finished patching up the wound, when Alan heard an angry voice bellowing from outside, "Alan! I challenge you to a duel to the death! Come on out and fight!" It was Robbins, who, realising he had nowhere left to go, had returned for a final confrontation.

Without hesitation, Alan stood and was about to head outside to confront his foe, but the voices of his friends stopped him, "Alan, don't do this! He'll kill you!" Alan gave them all a sad smile, "This is something I have to do; only with the defeat of Fields will this battle truly end. Unless we stop him, he will only continue menacing our lives, forcing us to live in fear. And this is something I must do alone. The rest of you stay here and look after Lucy and Josie; don't come out until I've returned, so Fields can't strike down anyone else." This time, after Josie's lucky escape, nobody dared argue.

"Al, wait," Hotdog said, tossing him a clawed knuckleduster he carried on him, "This gadget has been my fighting talisman for years; now it's yours. Good luck mate!"

"You make sure you come back to us alive, you hear?" Derek said in a serious voice, "I don't fancy being your second today…" Alan nodded, grasping his new weapon. Giving his friends a reassuring smile that everything would be all right, he headed outside. He could see Robbins waiting at the far end of the graveyard, still on horseback and brandishing his stolen commando knife.

He took a position on the opposite side, facing Robbins. The evil man glared, his insane eyes blazing with fury and hate. They stared at each other for a few seconds, before Robbins proclaimed, "I can't live in a world where you have everything and I have nothing. Prepare to die!" Without another word, he charged full force.

Galloping past, he lashed out at Alan with the knife, who easily brushed the blade away, causing Robbins to lose his balance and fall off his horse. He saw his nemesis furiously get to his feet, still clutching the deadly weapon, his horse galloping off into the distance. Now evenly matched, the two men circled each other, looking for the perfect opportunity to strike. Alan broke the silence, "I thought you wanted me alive, to make me suffer."

"That was my original intention, before I realised it could backfire on me again and you would still find some way to recover. No Alan, I am through with playing games; this time, I am going to watch you die by my own hand. I am Russell Robbins and I will rebuild my life again. You thwarted my attempt to make Lucy mine, you've ruined my plans to conquer this world, and now you've left me stranded with nothing. You will pay for that with your life and those of your friends, and I will start anew."

"I don't want to kill you Fields," Alan begged his corrupt friend, "Please don't make me have to do this." Robbins glared, offended by Alan's plea, "Don't you dare pity me! I am no longer the snivelling sidekick you once knew; I am now your deadliest enemy!" With that, the two opponents struck.

Although an accomplished martial artist, Alan was having difficulty keeping Robbins' blows at bay; his nemesis had undoubtedly learned some highly advanced fighting skills at some point in his life as he flashed his weapon with lightning speed, while the claws of Hotdog's knuckleduster were barely holding out. The two men fought for a long while, exchanging wild blows. Alan felt his sympathy for his corrupt friend evaporate as he remembered how much his _true_ friends had suffered because of this monster's doing. Dodging another blow, he slashed Robbins in the abdomen, drawing first blood.

"That's for Mary!" he snarled, slashing Fields again, this time on the shoulder, "And that's for Miles!" Robbins, quickly regaining his footing, returned the blow, slashing Alan across his injured arm, reopening the bite wound Woundwort had given him. Despite the pain, Alan didn't lose his footing and viciously slashed Fields across the face in return, "And this is for Acorn!"

The duel continued; soon, the two opponents were bloodied and close to exhaustion, but continued exchanging wild blows, "You really think you're one of those talking animals?" Robbins sneered, "How does it feel betraying your own race over a bunch of fur balls?" Alan dodged another blow and returned it with one of his own, "As good as it feels to finally avenge the deaths of my friends," he growled, striking Robbins again, "This is for Speedwell and Buckthorn; and this is for Max Pete. Remember Pete? He realised the error of his ways and you killed him; at leasthe deserved to be avenged!"

Suddenly, Robbins aimed a powerful kick that caught Alan in the stomach, causing him to fall to his knees in pain; Robbins didn't miss the opportunity and aimed another blow, knocking the knuckleduster out of his hand; it flew through the air and disappeared into the tall grass among the tombstones.

With a glee of triumph, Robbins struck again; before he even knew what was happening, Alan saw his opponent's fist swing at his face and he was knocked violently off his feet; his head connected with a nearby tombstone and for an instant he saw stars. Spitting out blood from his mouth, he saw his enemy standing right above him, an evil smile of triumph written on his face, as he clutched the gleaming knife with both hands, ready to strike the final blow.

Defenceless and cornered, could almost see the pupils in his nemesis' eyes take the shape of skulls and crossbones, as the evil man closed in for the kill. Thoroughly enjoying himself, he calmly took a fixed position right above Alan, about to deliver the final blow. Raising the knife with both hands, he sneered, "Well, one thing is certain Alan; _I_ win in the end!"

Just as Alan was expecting the see the blade of his own weapon to sink into his heart, his fingers clutched something in the grass; he felt his fingers close around Hotdog's knuckleduster. Barely a second before Robbins could deliver the final blow he drove all three claws of the knuckleduster into his nemesis' kneecap. Robbins, unprepared for this sudden attack, screamed in pain and lost his balance. He fell over Alan and landed on the jabbed end of his own tombstone, before tumbling over and diving headfirst into his empty grave. Alan heard a sickening stabbing noise, followed by a loud groan from Robbins. He half expected his opponent to emerge from the grave and renew the attack but he didn't. What had happened?

By that time, the rabbits, having heart the commotion, had gathered around him, some looking worried, others dumbstruck as they stared into the pit where Robbins had fallen. Shakily getting to his feet, Alan turned and stared into the grave; his nemesis lay at the bottom, with the knife driven to the hilt straight through his chest. With tremendous effort, he reached up and pulled it out; but it was already all over for him.

With his last breath, Robbins turned and looked up at Alan, sneering, "So much for your mercy… Now, you've become me!" Alan only sighed, realising that his enemy, in a final attempt to crush his spirit, was trying to make him feel responsible for his imminent death. But Alan confidently, yet sadly, shook his head, "I offered you a chance for mercy Fields; you chose to throw it away." Robbins' sneer melted away, realising, on the brink of death, that he had lost the last battle. Just as his eyes rolled backwards in death, he mouthed in a tone so faint that not even the ants could hear, "I am sorry…"

They all stared down at their fallen enemy; Ronald Fields, alias Russell Robbins, who had been consumed by evil too far, beyond any hope of redemption, was dead, killed by his own hand. Alan reached down and picked up the bloodstained knife that lay beside his former friend's body. He stared at his father's last gift, which had played such an important role in his life; it had been his trusted weapon, in all his adventures and encounters. But now Alan felt repulsed at the sight of it, the blade still dripping with Fields' blood. Although it had ironically served him well, even in the hands of his enemy, it had still claimed the life of someone who had once been his friend.

Lucy found herself floating away; she had no idea where she was or how she got there, her mind a total blank. All she knew was that she couldn't move… In an instant, it came back to her; she was a prisoner of that man Robbins and his two lackeys. She could vaguely recall him giving her that shot that had put her to sleep…

As she tried to roll over, expecting to see her captor having returned to torment her some more, she was suddenly caught off-guard by a familiar sensation; somebody was tickling her feet. Laughter and realisation struck at the same time; in spite of her ticklishness, she could recognise her father's touch, the only person in the world who had permission to tickle her…

"Daddy?" she said, suppressing a giggle, "Is that you?" She could already feel her binds being undone; in a moment she was free and turned to see her father kneeling beside her, flanked by their rabbit friends, her Uncle Derek and Uncle Hotdog, and Ms Josie. She looked at her father in surprise, remembering what Robbins had told her earlier, "He told me you were dead…" Alan picked his daughter up to embrace her.

"No sweetheart, I am far from dead; and I will always be here for you no matter what. That scoundrel will never touch you again…never…" Lucy hugged her father back, realising that Robbins had indeed been lying; her father was alive and had come for her, accompanied by their new neighbours, who were staring at them with smiling faces, "I love you Daddy…"

"I love you too sweetheart," Alan replied, as he continued to hug her, the rabbits also joining in, nuzzling her in silent affection. They had triumphed; the day was theirs.

As a last tribute of respect to their former friend, the men gave Fields a decent burial and by the following evening, they were ready to begin their journey home. Lucy had regained consciousness shortly after Robbins' demise and Alan was relieved to see that the experience of her second kidnapping had caused her to lasting harm, no more than the first time. Josie, although still weak from her injury, was recovering well and fit to travel.

Shortly before their departure, Alan approached Robbins' now filled grave and drew his knife. Giving it one last look, he planted it at the foot of the grave, just like he had seen Fields do in the Life Memory Journey. Casting one last look at the grave, he turned and mounted his horse, leaving the knife behind.

Mounting the saddle of his stallion, with Vervain, his leg in a cast, seated cross-wise in front of him (Vervain and Cowslip were being brought back to the Down, to treat their injuries), he gave the word and the group of humans and rabbits departed for home. As they rode along, Derek approached Alan, "Why did you do that? I thought you and that knife of yours were inseparable…"

"Because that accursed gadget is the last surviving remainder of _him_. The man we buried back there, just like Robbins said, had long since ceased to be the Ronald Fields we once knew," Alan said, feeling the weight of guilt on his conscience ease up somewhat. Although Fields had proven himself beyond redemption, the act of killing someone that had once been his friend, would take a long time to get over. Despite that, Alan felt relieved, knowing that his duty was done; now it was time to do his duty with regards to _himself_. A new life awaited him.

Author's note: Robbins is finally dead! The story is drawing to an end folks! Coming up next, a final chapter to wrap up everything followed by an epilogue, showing the group's progress a year or so after the final battle. ENJOY AND PLEASE REVIEW!


	64. Chapter 64 Dawn of a New Era

Alan stood amidst the crowd assembled in the Honeycomb for a meeting. It had been a little over a week following the demise of Robbins. Almost as if the death of that man had been a premonition of good fortune, things had been looking up since.

The return journey to Watership Down had been uneventful. Upon their return to the Honeycomb, the first good news they had learned was that Silverweed had finally awoken from his coma; although sound of both mind and body, they were heartbroken to learn that the mental penetration he had used to revive Alan, had cost him his psychic powers. Silverweed however, now a normal buck and no longer a mystic, hadn't been the least troubled at the loss of his powers, as he calmly informed them that he was content to finally be free of the burden of his former powers.

Further good news included a full recovered Bluebell; when they had returned to the Down, the jokester buck had been the first to greet them, now up and about, accompanying Violet and their kittens outside for the first time, just as he had promised. The only reminder of his injury was an ugly scar that run along the length of his upper torso, where his cousin's old heard now resided. Although still in mourning over the loss of Speedwell and Buckthorn, his comical spirit was as good as ever; in fact, as soon as he had spotted Bigwig, he had started inquiring about the 'rumour' of him being in love with Hawkbit. Neither Bigwig nor Hawkbit had taken the joke well at all and had ended up chasing Bluebell all over the Down while everybody else roared with laughter.

Upon their return, the sad part of the victory celebrations had followed: the funerals for the dead. All of the bodies, many mutilated and disfigured, had been recovered from the ruins of Efrafa and identified; only Woundwort's hadn't been found, creating great concern among the Efrafans that perhaps their former dictator had somehow survived and would be coming back. However Alan, after having seen Woundwort in the hellish realm during the Life Memory Journey, had no doubts that the infamous tyrant was gone forever and ironically, his remains would never be laid to rest with the decency befitting a Chief Rabbit.

The bodies of Speedwell, Buckthorn, Acorn and McEwen (in his case, it was only a severed arm, leg, his head and a few fragments of ribs that had been found scattered) were brought back to Watership Down for burial. Also, the mummified bodies of the Drakes and Santon, left unattended for seven hundred years, were removed from the HAB and given a decent burial above ground.

Alan had had the impression that the rabbits didn't do much regarding their dead; to his amazement, he found that if circumstances permitted, a dead rabbit was given a whole funeral ceremony, rather than just simply burying the body and saying a few words. A lagomorph's funeral was always held at sunset and out in the open; each of the dead had a grave dug by his friends or family, which was filled with samples of the plant the buck was named after. The graves were similar to human graves; however, there were no headstones used to mark the final resting place, since, according to Frithianity, the dead would be reincarnated in a renewed, non-aging body in the Land Beyond Life, while the mortal body was claimed by the earth.

Bluebell had approached his cousin's body and placed a small oilcloth pouch containing his old heart into the grave beside him. Josie had also approached the woollen shroud that held her husband's bomb-vaporized remains and placed her wedding ring in it along with a photograph of their family, which now only survived through her.

But the funerals on Watership Down were not the only ones; on Campion's request, all the recovered bodies of his former fallen comrades, were also laid to rest in a mass unmarked grave on the remaining portion of the Efrafan island. Mallow, Chervil, Avens, Marjoram, Charlock, Bartsia, Mudrowf, Thunder, Burdock and a hundred others, despite having died as enemies loyal to Woundwort, were also laid to rest with dignity. Even the remains of Sven and Max Pete were recovered from the caverns and given a simple, yet decent burial.

After the funerals were over, a new task had followed: building a permanent home, each party in its own rights. So far, the Watershipers, Efrafans, and the five colonists had been sharing the Honeycomb, making the warren horribly overcrowded. Campion's search for a suitable location to build a new warren had ended when Groundsel's search party had stumbled across a rocky outcrop not too far away from Watership Down, which turned out to be the former location of the village of Kingsclere. The Efrafans, including the officers, had gotten to work; the successor warren of Efrafa, Vleflain was soon under construction. And it wasn't the only one.

The five colonists had quickly realised that they couldn't live in the Honeycomb forever, if they were to set up all the appropriate facilities needed for a new life in this future world. Although Hazel had insisted that they were welcome to settle down with them in the warren, Alan knew better; a permanent _human_ home would many certain things that could be dangerous for the rabbits, especially the kittens. Aside from a suitable habitat, they would also need a place to plant crops, breed livestock, set up workshops and labs, among other necessities, which the Honeycomb couldn't accommodate.

Their first thought had been to renovate and convert the mothballed HAB into a new home; although it was spacious and could house all the facilities they needed, saving them many months of hard work, Alan didn't like the idea of setting up home in the hole that had served as Drake's tomb for the past seven centuries. Therefore, the five humans had set off to find a suitable location to start building their new home from scratch. The search ended when Lucy had stumbled across a flat plain, with a clear view of the Honeycomb to the east; surrounded by the wild orchard that grew on the Down, it was a perfect spot and Hazel gave them his consent.

After having secured a suitable spot, the colonists had next turned their attention to their resources. Most of their equipment from the 21st century was intact, with the exception of their aircraft, which had been damaged beyond repair, cancelling their plans for extended exploration overseas (Hotdog had shed a few tears at the prospect of never flying again which he had been looking forward to). Instead, the salvaged wreck was to be dismantled and its surviving components would be used for their other undertakings.

Derek had hit upon the idea of building a stone kiln, powered by the remaining fuel from the plane; with it, they could make bricks for the construction of their new home, among other uses. Since clay was scarce in the area, instead they would use brick fragments unearthed from various locations where farmhouses had stood centuries ago; these fragments were recycled, ground back into clay and used to make fresh bricks in the kiln; these, along with stone, wood, and other raw materials acquired from the environment, would supply all their necessary building materials.

Although they had enough tools to make a start, it had still proven to be an enormous challenge building a new home. After repairing the breach in the HAB's sub entry and draining the water, they had combed the facility from top to bottom in hopes of finding any useful salvage. Alas, aside from HAL and a handful of other odds and ends that had been overlooked, the place was completely stripped. Even the facility's reactor was no good, as its core was already nearly depleted and would run out within a few years. Despite that, they were able to make good use of some seemingly useless components, including parts of the facility's framework, empty bottles and jars, copper piping, wire, electrical components, among other bits of junk that were used to make everything they needed.

With the help of the newly restored HAL, Derek had already drawn the blueprints for their new home, which would include a two-storey house, barn, stable, henhouse, warehouse, powerhouse, greenhouse, laboratory, workshop, a small tree house to use as an observation and communication's tower and even a brewery. For power production, Derek had come up with the idea of constructing a wind turbine using components salvaged from their plane. In addition, he had proposed constructing a water turbine that would work with the movement of the small waterfall that poured into the canyon at the foot of the Down; that turbine would power a set of pumps, to transport drinking water to a reservoir in their new home.

Groundsel had been declared the new Chief Rabbit of the Efrafans rather than Campion, who chose to resume his post as Captain of Owsla and second in command. Meanwhile, Vleflain was nearly finished and the Efrafans were ready to move into their new home…into a new life, free of Woundwort's tyranny. It was therefore, on the evening prior to the Efrafans' departure, that Hazel had called a meeting (the very same meeting Alan had seen on the Life Memory Journey); the Watershipers, Efrafans, and the five humans stood assembled in the crowded Honeycomb, with Hazel, Bigwig, Campion and Alan standing atop the Chief's customary rock platform, facing the spectators.

Although the former Efrafans were still having a hard time accepting humans living so close to them, most of them had settled down peacefully and even the former bullying officers had minded their discipline. Hyzenthlay and her friends had settled down happily and had even started mating, just like Hyzenthlay had foretold; Alan smiled as he noticed several does already expecting their first litters. Violet's kittens sat with Lucy, playing together. The little creatures had been surprisingly quick to accept her as a desirable playmate, much to everyone's joy. Only Cowslip and Vervain sat as far away as possible, avoiding the happy crowd.

Ever since they had brought them back to treat their injuries, the duo hadn't exactly received a warm welcome, making their stay rather unpleasant to say the least. Blackavar in particular had become Vervain's living nightmare and would pitilessly bully him around without end, until Hazel had decided to step in. Bigwig called the group to silence and Hazel spoke.

"Today we are gathered together to honour the memory of many of our friends who gave their lives to restore peace to our world; Major McEwen, Speedwell, Buckthorn, Acorn, Nildrohein and the Efrafans who fought on our side, all died as heroes and will be remembered as such. We honour their sacrifice with every new warren we dig, with every fresh supply of flayrah we harvest, and with every kitten we bring into the world, and then teach to rejoice in what we have been re-given; our freedom, our heritage. A new era of peaceful coexistence begins for us today." The spectators cheered, before Campion proceeded with his own speech.

"As you all know, until quite recently, we lived under the dark rule of General Woundwort, who had smeared our heritage with lies, deprived us of our freedom, and had us all living in fear and misery over a false cause. That was until Prince Rainbow bestowed his foretold gift upon our world, resurrecting the legacy of El-ahrairah. Thanks to the courage of Alan and his friends, his vile rule has finally drawn to a close; as of today, we start a new life, free of Woundwort's dark and needless influence." More cheers shook the Honeycomb, as Alan stepped forward for his part of the speech.

"When I first came, I was lost, confused and an empty shell, with nothing to live for. But then I met Hazel and his friends and we embarked on our long and perilous journey that finally brought us here; not only was I given a chance to start anew, but also a chance to make amends for humanity's past mistakes. For countless generations, we lived under the belief that we could exploit our planet's natural resources without consequence; even when the harsh reality begun to reflect the outcome of our neglect, because of corruption and greed among our leaders, humanity chose to simply ignore the truth and the few who protested were scorned at or suppressed…until nature finally took its revenge." Alan couldn't help notice that all eyes watching him intently, as he continued with his speech.

"After the Apocalypse, when humanity stood on the brink of extinction, my late friend and colleague Dr Cole Drake took the initiative of constructing a new world, giving humanity the opportunity for a new beginning. Thanks to the wonders of science, which humanity had perfected through countless generations of struggle, sacrifice, and ironically, exploitation of nature, his plan was a success; the Four Brothers, bestowed upon with the abilities of human speech and intelligence, the primary factors that distinguish humans from nature, came into existence. Unfortunately, the barrier between man and nature had still not been penetrated; greed and hatred, traits that have plagued human nature since the beginning of time, also present in Hemlock, prevailed. After eliminating the last of the human race, including his own creator, he set out to build himself an invincible empire, replacing humanity as the dominant creature." Furious muttering broke out, as the rabbits looked at each other with uncertainty.

"During the battle of Efrafa, when General Woundwort was going to kill me and my friends, I willingly surrendered myself to death, in hopes of destroying him and giving my friends…giving you _all_, a chance for a better future. As some of you already know, I found myself in the Land Beyond Life, where I learned that fate had made me Prince Rainbow's Messenger; it was my duty to mend the breach between man and nature, to secure a better future based on the _good_ things humanity has achieved. Today, not only have you regained your freedom, but humanity has also regained its place on this planet…_no longer_ as the dominant species, with unlimited power, but with a renewed allegiance with nature from where we, like every other living being, originate. Both our species have been given a chance to create a new and hopefully better future together. So now, let us begin!"

Cheers and applause broke out as Alan announced the dawn of the new era of unity between the two species. Hazel smiled at his friend along with Campion, both accepting the new future that lay ahead of them. Although uncertain of what fate had in store for them, Alan felt sure that the dark future he had seen on the Life Memory Journey had been averted. Further challenges definitely lay ahead of them, yet whatever the outcome would be, the world would not fall to the evil side which, until quite recently, had survived through Robbins and Woundwort. Darkness would not fall.

Author's notes: This is the end folks! There is still an epilogue to come, showing the group's progress a year or so later, as well as introducing the new generation. Enjoy and PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!


	65. Chapter 65 The End is only the Beginning

**July 24th 2013, London**

"Court is adjourned!" the judge announced, bringing the trial of the century to a close. The newly promoted Chief Inspector Charles Santon, accompanied by the recently knighted Sir Cole Drake, walked out of the High Court of Justice in London. Striding through the crowd of annoying reporters desperate for a story from the two key witnesses that had become celebrities over the past few months, the two men made for Drake's waiting limousine and were off.

It had been a little over six months since Alan's departure. The trial for the few remaining Red Hand faction members that had been apprehended had followed; Drake and Santon had been summoned in to testify, alongside a jury of people that had lost friends and family to Red Hand, including the families of Neil Coyle and McEwen's crew, among others. The trial had been long and stressful, during which time the few remaining faction members were slowly rounded up and brought to justice. Only Sven Shertok, who had managed to evade capture, had been tried in absentia and given a life sentence for murder and conspiracy to terrorism, placing him on the top of Interpol's most wanted list.

As it turned out, Red Hand had connections everywhere, in every major government department as well as in many other countries outside the United Kingdom, explaining how they had managed to keep their existence a secret for nearly 20 years. Bankers, lawyers, businessmen, soldiers, scientists and even some corrupt government officials had been found guilty of aiding the Red Hand Brotherhood through abuse of office, embezzlement, fraud, bribery and murdering anyone who had tried to talk. But that hadn't been Drake or Santon's main concern.

From the moment Alan and his friends had left, Santon had been carefully pulling the strings in every way he could, in a desperate attempt to preserve the secrecy of the future. With the exception of Sven, the rest of the Red Hand Brotherhood were either dead or arrested; and fortunately, those that had been tracked down and apprehended were only minor associates that knew nothing of Alan or the future. However, the news of Red Hand's downfall being the heroism of a man who had died _twice_ had been impossible not to leak out. Even after Red Hand had been defeated, various rumours surrounding Alan had surfaced, many questioning the circumstances of his 'return from the dead.'

Making himself comfortable on the sofa-like seat of Drake's limousine, Santon removed his hat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief, while Drake poured him a cold drink from the vehicle's icebox, "Good Heavens, I thought the proceedings would take longer than the Nuremberg trial! And those damned reporters, firing stupid questions in our face without end! How celebrities can stand those nosy bastards invading their privacy at every turn, I'll never understand…"

"Well, thank God it's finally over," replied Drake, taking a sip of his own beverage, turning to his secret trustee, "Now, what's the situation with regards to our _personal matter _Charles? How is Alan linked to all this business now?"

"The disappearance of Dr Johnson as well as all the other people that mysteriously vanished last winter has been concluded as a series of murder schemes conducted by Red Hand, to retain their cover." Through Santon and Drake's carefully rehearsed testimonies, as well as Robbins' journal, which had been the key piece of evidence in the investigation, it had finally been implanted in the public's mind that Alan, Derek, Julio, McEwen and his crew had all been victims of Red Hand, having accidentally stumbled across the terrorist faction and silenced in elaborate 'accidents'.

The media had reported how only Alan had managed to escape but thanks to Red Hand's powerful connections, had been framed for the murder of his housewife and the others missing before he could talk and forced into hiding along with Dr Drake, who had also been aiding him. Although officials had learned the truth that Sergey Petrograd had in fact been Dr Drake's father, it had been kept a secret from the Press, saving Drake from a scandal that would have ruined his reputation and possibly jeopardized his role in the future.

In a desperate attempt to clear his name and prevent a catastrophe, Alan had proceeded to take on the Red Hand Brotherhood single-handedly but had perished along with Sergey Petrograd's inner circle, when Red Hand's headquarters had been destroyed. Robbins' true allegiance had also been revealed, creating a terrible scandal for the Ministry of Defence. The aftermath had been an endless pile of lawsuits and hefty financial compensations for the families of past victims.

On the bright side, as a result of his work on the case, Santon had been promoted to Chief Inspector, while Drake had received a knighthood from the Queen, in addition to a vast business enterprise inherited from his father, which would now serve as the primary cash cow for the League of the New World. Alan, who had been declared dead in action, had been posthumously awarded the George's Cross for his courage and sacrifice. The part of his story regarding his journey into the future was buried so deep that no one would ever know, with the exception of Drake, his family, and Santon.

Project Black Inferno had left Earth's orbit and drifted away into deep space after the probe had gone dead. The only surviving relic of the Red Hand Brotherhood was left floating dead in space as a memento to Sergey Petrograd's memory. Although a few people had associated the 2012 phenomenon with the satellite, no one realised that the crippled impulse gun aboard the probe, when set at a different frequency could still stimulate the time-portal Aurora Borealis on command. The remaining two cores were salvaged from the ruins of Buxton Hall and taken to government labs around the world, to be dismantled and studied by military scientists.

"All evidence that can reveal the secret of the future has either been destroyed or is safely in our possession," Santon concluded as Drake patted his armoured briefcase, which contained his ongoing research on Project Utopia. Santon also had Derek's flash stick around his neck containing Drake's log entries of the original timeline, which Alan had left him prior to his departure. Despite the presence of Sven, who was still lurking out there somewhere, probably trying to salvage his old life, the future was finally safe. The two men drove away, feeling triumphant and content, yet completely unaware of a few more clues that had been overlooked…

Many miles away, outside of London, in the village of Whitchurch, a Council squad were busy clearing away the charred rubble of Hotdog's demolished inn. As one of the workmen lifted an armful of junk to load it onto the truck, suddenly a ragged, battered book fell at his feet…

The worker threw the debris onto the truck before bending down and picking up Alan's copy of _Watership Down_. The book was all battered and crumpled, with a chard patch on the edge of the cover but otherwise intact, having survived incineration from being buried under all the fireproof rubble that had piled down on it in the explosion. The man curiously flipped through the pages and saw all the scribbled notes Alan had made. Oblivious to the importance of those notes, he pocketed the book, hoping to sell it and treat himself to an extra pint of larger at the local pub after he finished his shift, and got back to work. Little did he realise the secret hidden within the scribbles in the little battered book tucked in his pocket…

Not too far away, deep within the burnt-out remains of Buxton Hall outside Overton, in Samir's abandoned office, now stripped of all its gory trophies and equipment, lay yet another hidden clue to Alan's secret story: locked inside the secret safe under the floor tiling, was an armoured briefcase containing a collection of forgotten tapes, as well as several test tubes in a refrigerant container, which were the blood samples that Samir had extracted from Hazel and Hawkbit. This little biological sample of the future world lay sealed inside the airtight environment of the safe, waiting to be discovered by someone else, sometime…

In a secret hideout, far away, Sven Shertok lay recuperating from the loss of his hand, awaiting the arrival of a prosthetic he had ordered made for him. In spite of his painful injury and the disability that would burden him for the rest of his life, including writing or tying his shoelaces, not to mention having lost everything he had worked for, the fugitive was still far from despairing.

On the rickety desk before him lay the pages from Robbins' journal, containing the edited parts about his late colleague's journey into the future. With any key names or events underlined, Sven worked to extract any useful information; like Drake and Santon, he had embarked on his own little secret project concerning the upcoming future he knew was coming. Beside that lay a variety of paperwork for the buying of valuable stock, which would supply him with the necessary funds and resources in the years to come…

Author's notes: Hey chaps! As you probably guessed, this isn't the epilogue; it is just a wrap-up chapter showing what happened back in Alan's time after he left to return to the future. Coming up next, the epilogue, showing the group's progress and introducing the next generation. Enjoy and please don't forget to review!


	66. Chapter 66 Epilogue

**March 10th 2792, Watership Down**

Alan sat atop his favourite rock overlooking the view from the northern summit of Watership Down, as he wrote down his memoirs, a routine he had adapted since settling down into his new life. A journal lay open on his lap where he recorded the progress he and his companions had achieved since establishing their little colony in the world of the 28th century. Today was their first anniversary since they had first come into the future. For the past year, he, Derek, Hotdog, Josie, and Lucy had worked hard to adjust, while watching the colony of their neighbours grow with the latest generation.

Ever since the defeat of Woundwort and Robbins, there had been a mad rush of mating and kittens. Violet's litter had grown into healthy young rabbits; two identical males Speedwell and Buckthorn, named after their strong resemblance to Bluebell's late twin cousins (Alan secretly wondered perhaps they actually _were_ Speedwell's litter but decided to keep it private) and Acorn, named after the late twins' closest friend. The forth one, the only doe in the litter, was named Bluebella, after her father. As the gene run in the family, the bucks were natural pranksters and jokesters while Bluebella seemed to have inherited her mother's docile, yet friendly nature as well as her stunning beauty.

Clover's litter was the first to arrive following the death of Robbins; Holly had been ecstatic when he proudly announced that he was finally going to be a father, something he had never dreamt of during his long career as Captain of Owsla at Sandleford. Their four kittens Sandwort, Melsa, Crowla and Pimpernel, who was named after the deceased scout from Holly's former Owsla, brought the couple great joy, particularly for Holly, who was delighted to finally have a family, even so late in life. Sandwort and Pimpernel took very much after their father, both being well-built bucks, courageous, if not as disciplined, particularly Sandwort, who soon gained a reputation as a reckless daredevil, while Melsa and Crowla took after their mother, both does being curious and high-spirited in nature.

Hyzenthlay had been next, the arrival of her first litter sending Hazel into a swoon when he was told he was going to be a father. Their four daughters Snowdrop, Gillia, Tindra and Primrose were the couple's pride and joy, particularly for Hyzenthlay who was delighted to finally have the privilege of mothering her own kittens. The painful memories of the many miscarriages she had suffered during her captivity in Efrafa, with all the litters reabsorbed as a result of her long confinement and misery had haunted her up to the point where she feared she could never have kittens. Throughout her pregnancy, despite Josie and Alan's reassurance, she had fretted about the possibility of the kittens being born dead or sickly; to her utmost happiness however, all four were born strong and healthy.

The next litter had come from Thethuthinnang, who had become Blackberry's mate. Their kittens Crowfoot, Foxglove, Frogbit, Sparrow and Yale, took after their father's beautiful mind, but also after their mother's wise voice of reason, making them not only intelligent but also broad-minded, surpassing their father's conservative nature. Although Alan and his companions had most definitely earned Blackberry's trust and respect, deep down Alan knew that the Threarah's former advisor secretly still didn't approve of his children intermingling with humans, yet Thethuthinnang had no qualm in the slightest, so there had been no arguments when their kittens became Lucy's playmates.

Fiver had almost had a fit when Vilthuril told him he was going to be a father; what did he know about raising a family? After a lot of reassuring from Hazel and Alan, he finally came round and they had all sat waiting for the warren's fifth litter to arrive. Their kittens Walnut, Peanut and Almond, who were named after Fiver's father and brothers, Forest, and finally the runt of the litter Threar-roo or Little Threar, named in memory of the Threarah.

Although four of the kittens were born healthy, runty Little Threar, who had inherited both his parents' runt genes, was born so tiny, it had seemed unlikely he would survive long enough until he would no longer be dependant on his mother's milk. Only thanks to Alan and Josie who had hand reared the kitten for several weeks until he was old enough to accept the texture of grass, had that possibility been outruled. Vilthuril had been overjoyed when her son was returned to her in perfect health.

Others had found happiness in different ways, other that mating and raising kittens. Hawkbit had developed an on-off relationship with Nelthilta; although definitely not mates and, on first impression, the least likely relationship to last, given that Nelthilta often called Hawkbit 'a big-mouthed sloth' while he called her 'a big-headed field mouse', Alan could sense a seed of true love tucked beneath their shyness and wondered when it would take root and blossom. Blackavar, who couldn't find a mate due to his disfigurement, had instead joined Bigwig's easy-going Owsla as a lead tracker. Although Groundsel had offered him a position as Head of Owslafa in Vleflain, to help make amends for all the damage Woundwort's fascist Council had caused, Blackavar had too many painful memories to resume life with the former Efrafans, reformed or not. Instead, he had agreed to assume the position of the first Vleflain ambassador on Watership Down.

Silverweed had settled down happily and soon realised, his seer powers weren't completely extinguished after all; only several weeks after he had awoken from his coma, he had surprised them all when he felt his mind-penetrating powers return. At first, he had been afraid that the return of his powers would cause him to be resented or even hated for his past actions; however, the fact that he had used them to save Alan's life hadn't been forgotten and he soon accepted what he was and his bond with his new friends, particularly Fiver and Alan, remained strong as ever.

The happiness of the arrival of newborns wasn't only limited to Watership Down. Shortly after Vleflain had been established, Groundsel had announced the birth of their first litter; that of the newly promoted Lieutenant Moss, Campion's new deputy and his mate Heather, a former slave doe that had become very attached to him after Woundwort's tyranny had fallen. Their kittens Stichwort and Knapweed, although rather distrusting of humans, like many of the former Efrafans, seemed to interact well with the Watership youngsters, indicating that Woundwort's dark influence of hatred and distrust was slowly crumbling.

Vleflain didn't maintain Woundwort's old regime; although it still retained the Owslafa and the Owsla Wide Patrols, their purposes had been significantly altered. The Owslafa, instead of managing the organisation of Marks, functioned as a liaison between the Chief Rabbit and the people, which addressed and discussed issues about the warren in a democratic fashion. Slavery and capital punishment had been entirely abolished; the former slave bucks had been offered positions in the newly reformed Owsla and Owslafa, while the does were granted freedom of mating. Holly was appointed the Watership Down ambassador in Vleflain; although he chose not to settle down there, he frequently moved between the two warrens and cooperated perfectly with the bureaucratic members of the High Council, his experience with the Threarah having taught him invaluable lessons. The Wide Patrols were no longer used for spying and invading; instead, they were reorganised as peaceful exploration squads, after the interest of exploring humanity's lost world had begun to grow. The warren had quickly flourished under the new order, marking the downfall of Woundwort's rule and the dawn of a new era of unity between humans and rabbits.

The only remaining link to Woundwort's legacy was Vervain, who had settled down in Vleflain as a lowly outskirter. After he had recovered from his injury, he had been banished; however, after a while he had returned, starving and desperate, begging for mercy. Campion had eventually taken pity on him and persuaded Groundsel to let him stay. However, he was denied any position in the Owsla and Owslafa due to his endless record of abuse of position. Although thoroughly insulted at being forced to bear such a discriminating social status, his cowardice had won over his pride and he had finally settled down. Cowslip had returned to his abandoned warren and started a new life as a hermit, while trying in vain to salvage his old life.

As for Alan and his group, they had settled down nicely and made a whole new life for themselves. Their new home had been finished by the end of their first winter, allowing them to pursue their task of learning to survive independently from their long gone civilisation. It was anything but easy; despite Alan and Derek's vast scientific knowledge, building everything from scratch was an enormous challenge for a group of people accustomed to the luxuries of 21st century civilisation, suddenly thrown into this endless wilderness. However, after months of experimenting and hard labour, the five colonists had finally perfected all the necessary skills to make their lives bearable.

Derek, the engineer of the colony, had qualified as a builder, blacksmith, carpenter, potter, and even as a glassblower. Alan, as the biologist, had qualified as a gardener, farmer, on-field scientist, as well as a keen brewer, introducing many new recipes for beers, ales, wines, whiskeys and other beverages that came out of their brewery. His military skills also gave him the advantage to qualify as a tracker, hunter, and paramedic, earning him an important position in Bigwig's Owsla.

Josie, the warren's veterinarian, had also qualified as a physician for her fellow colonists with Alan as her assistant. Hotdog, lacking any serious academic knowledge and at a loss without his aircraft, had eventually qualified as Derek's assistant and soon became a skilled technician and handyman. In addition, all the colonists would spend several reading hours a day, perfecting their skills in other useful fields of knowledge, taking full control of their lives in the new world, including how to hunt, ride, identify plants and animals, and navigate by the stars, among other survival skills required for the wilderness they now lived in.

As soon as they had settled down, another issue had come up: Lucy's interrupted education. Alan had had every intention of stirring his daughter away from the ways of the old human world and teaching her everything anew. One of the first things he did was to teach her, as well as himself, Lapine, so they could communicate comfortably with their neighbours. With the help of Hyzenthlay and the other does, which were by rule, teachers to their young, Lucy had learned quickly and was soon as fluent as the rabbits.

When it came to Alan, Derek, Josie and Hotdog however, none of which had the advantage of learning at a young age, and without any books on the subject, it had proven to be rather difficult. But with patience and practice, they slowly managed. In return, they taught all the kittens and even Blackavar, who was frustrated of being unable to communicate with his new friends properly because of the language barrier, English, so they could all communicate perfectly in both languages.

Aside from teaching the youngsters English, Alan had also set out to broaden their minds in other skills, including counting beyond four, telling time by means of the sun and moon, the untold history of the Four Brothers, as well as dispelling the many superstitious beliefs of their ancestors. Using the miniature models from the HAB's museum, he was also able to give them basic history lessons on the lost human world, something that every rabbit on the Down, and even a few of the former Efrafans, showed particular interest in.

When it came to Pipkin's case however, Alan had given him a full human education, including how to read; the dwarf rabbit had quickly found hidden strengths within him as a pupil and had soon merged into an intelligent and responsible buck, in contrast to the skittish, naive weakling he had been since the deaths of his parents. Alan had come to relying on him heavily, whether on an expedition, in his lab, or simply in his company.

Alan's family had also fared marvellously; after their new home had been built, they had set out to provide for themselves. Once their greenhouse was finished, they had planted the seeds they had brought from the 21st century. Unfortunately, their first attempt was a failure due to the fact that the seedlings from their time were vulnerable to the unknown parasites of the future; without pesticides or fertilisers, most of them soon became contaminated with fungi and moulds and rotted before anything could be harvested.

On their second attempt, Alan had experimented with seeds harvested from the native future flora; these proved to be an enormous success and within six months, their greenhouse was flourishing with tomatoes, cabbages, carrots, broccoli, onions, potatoes, spinach, garlic, rice, corn, soybeans, tea, coffee, oregano and mushrooms. Alan also made sure to plant cotton, flax and hay, to use as raw materials for clothing and other accessories. Other herbs with medicinal properties, such as camomile and tobacco, were also included, to supply their infirmary. The rabbits were all struck dumb when the humans presented them with fresh flayrah on their first Frith's Eve feast, in the middle of a freezing winter.

Aside from their greenhouse, the colonists also kept livestock, including the chickens they had brought from the 21st century, which had successfully hatched from their eggs shortly after their arrival, in addition to their horses, as well as some sheep and goats they had captured and redomesticated. These were kept in a paddock a safe distance away from the Down, as not to attract elil. From them, they were able to get milk, meat, wool and skins, supplying the rest of their food needs.

As it turned out, the seasons in this future world were unpredictable, with warm summers and freezing winters, making food harvesting and preservation important. After some experimenting, Alan had managed to develop the recipes to pickle fruit and vegetables and store them in jars. Goat's meat and bread was also preserved for winter storage. The orchard on the Down, along with any wild prey they caught, toped up their larder. By the time their supplies from the 21st century were gone, they were successfully producing their own bread, milk and meat products, vegetables, fruit, and wine, making their survival away from civilisation indefinite.

Although their new home provided shelter and safety, it had still lacked even the most basic 21st century luxuries they were accustomed to. Derek had taken the initiative to amend the situation; after installing a low-voltage power system manufactured out of the plane's cabin circuitry and using his wind turbine, they were able to provide enough power for light and to keep their battery equipment charged at all times. The water turbine installed in the canyon pumped up water from the river, through a pressurised hose and dumped into a large reservoir outside their compound; this in turn fed their sinks, baths, a fire-powered water heater, an improvised refrigerator that used cold water as a coolant, and even a small fountain built outside the Honeycomb for the rabbits. Although they were still years away from bringing all 21st century luxuries into their new home, with patience and effort, they made rapid progress.

To fulfil his duties as a scientist, Alan had built himself a laboratory, equipped with all the facilities needed to study the future environment. Since his portable laboratory kit from the 21st century would not suffice, he had set out to improvise all the additional necessities needed, using whatever he could salvage from the HAB. Empty glass bottles and jars were used to improvise beakers and test tubes, while the forgotten mineral exhibits from the museum, as well as any plant products harvested from his greenhouse and the surrounding environment, were used to make a fresh supply of chemical ingredients.

Derek, likewise, had built himself a workshop for his own undertakings. Using their meagre toolkit from the 21st century, his kiln, any components salvaged from the HAB, and some practice in craftsmanship, he was soon able to make all the additional tools and equipment they would need. One particularly useful bit of salvage had been the forgotten contents of the Technological section of the HAB's museum; although most of these relics were corroded or damaged, he was still able to dismantle and study them. He had soon surprised the colony with some extraordinary technological triumphs, including a fully functional Morse lamp, a crude radio shack, hydrogen, gunpowder, and even a supply of dynamite. Other undertakings however, including the construction of a camera, a phonograph, a mechanical clock, a radar assembly and the restoration of their plane, were failures, mostly due to the absence of certain delicate components as well as the complexity of the construction.

Josie had built herself a new infirmary, equipped with all the facilities for humans and rabbits alike, including a surgery and quarantine room. For medicine, Alan had presented her with various herbs and other plants from the greenhouse along with several books on natural cures, which he had brought from the 21st century. With some experimenting, they were able to develop all the necessary medications. The first few months had proven to be the most challenging as the five humans fought to adjust to the pathogens in their new environment, which their bodies weren't accustomed to. Alan had expressed some concern that they may encounter some disease too powerful to counteract with natural immunity, after Lucy, Derek and even himself had fallen sick with some unfamiliar type of flu; luckily, they were all able to overcome it naturally, proving that human survival in this future world was indeed possible.

Following their success with the greenhouse and the infirmary, Alan had tried taking it a step further by developing more advanced medications, including vaccines and antibiotics. In spite of all the long hours of experimenting, with all available resources he could find, even the most common 21st century medication such as aspirin, had proven to be too much of a challenge, mostly due to the absence of all the necessary equipment. Finally, he had made up for his failure by developing the means of making positive blood type identification, allowing safe transfusions to be used as a crude means of treatment.

After they had properly settled down, they had started making plans of extended exploration of their new home. Alan had had hopes that maybe in mainland Europe or America, fragments of the Old World might have survived. Unfortunately, with their aircraft destroyed and dismantled and with no other means of undertaking such a journey, either over land, water or air, the plan was soon abandoned. Instead, they had focused on exploring their territory in the Meadows of Fenlo. So far, they had made several expeditions, including a return trip to Sandleford, among other places.

Josie had settled down peacefully with Alan; although still in mourning for the deaths of her husband and son, with Alan's encouragement, she was able to overcome her tragedy and move on, sparing her the ordeal Alan had gone through. In the past year, she had escorted many patrols in hopes of finding her son alive, or at least recover his body for burial. Unfortunately, no trace of him was ever found and she was eventually forced to conclude that he was lost forever. Hoping to put the past behind her as soon as possible, she had never talked about it and Alan had declared a strict rule that no one was to bring it up. Although not married, she and Alan had continued dating, just like in the old days, and their old romance was soon revived, although they had kept it private.

A year had passed this way, during which time both colonies had fared marvellously; all the rabbits of Hazel's warren had soon accepted the humans into their lives, just like it had been during the time of El-ahrairah. The kittens in particular, that had been around them since birth and fully accustomed to their presence, enjoyed their company. Alan had found they were the most playful creatures in existence, even more than their parents were, and would always find himself surrounded by those playful youngsters, all asking to be cuddled or patted, every time he came to visit. Although he loved all of them very much, his favourite was Threar-roo, Fiver's youngest son, whom he had come to love to the same extent as Pipkin. Although a tiny runt, Little Threar was the pluckiest in spirit and had even inherited his father's seer abilities, making him genuine from the others and sometimes even scorned at; Fiver and Hazel were both very firm when it came to such an incident, which luckily wasn't often.

Alan had found a large ream of blank paper, during one of his many searches of the HAB; the package had been sealed airtight, perfectly preserving the paper from decay. Although they had plenty of blank journals from the 21st century as well as a computer, it wasn't reliable enough to record all their adventures and accomplishments. Using a restored typewriter he had salvaged from the HAB's museum, and feeding the paper through it, he was able to improvise a reliable means of recording his adventures for many years to come.

As he sat admiring the stunning view of the sunset, he suddenly felt something soft rubbing against his leg; looking down, he saw a mousy-furred runty kitten pawing at him, as if to get his attention. He smiled as he put aside his journal and gently picked up the rabbit onto his lap, "Hallo Threar, you little bugger, what are you up to?" The kitten arched its back in pleasure, as he looked up at the man with a wide grin, "Frithaes, uncle Alan."

The man smiled as he gently patted his adoptive nephew between the ears. A firm voice interrupted the tender moment, "Threar, where are you?" Alan turned and saw Fiver coming from the direction of the warren, looking rather worried; his expression instantly softened as he noticed his son in the lap of his heart-brother.

"Hallo Fiver," the man greeted the buck, who sat down beside him, as they admired the view together. Fiver stared at the setting sun, "We better return to the Honeycomb; Vilthuril will be very cross if I let Threar outside after dark again. She knows I trust you but her maternal instinct is strong…" Alan nodded, "All right, I'll walk back with you; I've got a meeting with Hazel and Bigwig anyway." With Alan carrying Little Threar on his shoulder, the two heart-brothers walked back to the Honeycomb.

As they approached the beech tree, Alan could see the rest of the youngsters at play, including Lucy playing tail-tag with Sandwort, who was her best friend. From all the youngsters, Sandwort was the biggest and strongest, so the others looked up to him and Lucy like 'leaders' of their group. Sandwort and Lucy on the other hand, had become like brother and sister, having adventures together, pulling pranks, or sharing secrets, although Lucy maintained a strong relationship with all the others as well.

Alan smiled as he watched his daughter run, only to be pinned down by Sandwort, who was upon her in a flash; although still a youngster, not to mention technically younger than Lucy, Sandwort, like all the kittens, grew amazingly fast and by the time he was six months old, could overpower Lucy single-handedly. Dandelion stood supervising the kittens, while entertaining those who would listen with the stories of the Four Brothers. As soon as they spotted Alan, the kittens abandoned their games and rushed over to greet him.

"How are you little rascals doing?" Alan asked playfully, as he knelt down only to find himself instantly engulfed in a bundle of furry creatures, nuzzling and licking him in silent fondness; by now he had become accustomed to this sort of greeting, with all the kittens teaming up on him or his companions, begging for a pat or a cuddle or simply Alan's loving attention. The greeting was interrupted however, when Speedwell Jr suddenly leapt onto Alan's shoulders and snatched away his hat, a common prank the twins liked to play on him. Alan smiled and gave chase; Speedwell tossed the hat to Buckthorn and back and, combined with their speed, making it difficult for Alan to retrieve it. But when Buckthorn tossed it to Bluebella, the young doe tossed it back to Alan instead, ruining their game. Alan smiled in gratitude as he patted Bluebella between the ears; he knew the twins didn't like having their pranks spoiled and feared their sister wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, with the twins pranking her without end.

At that moment, the does came out of the warren to retrieve their kittens. Hyzenthlay, accompanied by Violet, Vilthuril, Clover and Thethuthinang smiled as they noticed Alan, not looking the least concerned about their children playing with a fully-grown human, one carrying a shotgun over his shoulder nonetheless. Calmly, they walked up to the crowd, "Come on children, evening silflay is over; time to go in. You'll have plenty of time to play with your Uncle Alan tomorrow."

"Mother, can't we stay out a little longer please?" Primrose pleaded as she and her sisters walked up to their mother, looking as if they had been treated unfairly by being asked to come to bed in the middle of their fun. Seeing their expressions of disappointment, Alan gently replied, "Best do as your mother tells you, you little tykes. You don't want to come face to face with a night predator, do you?"

"Uncle Alan, what is a predator?" asked Sparrow, one of Blackberry's kittens, who had an intriguing curiosity. Before Alan could explain however, Sandwort, who had broken away from Lucy, suddenly jumped onto Alan's back, staring down at his friends, "I'll tell you what it is chaps: it's the homba, the lendri, the pfeffa, the rowf, the nildel and all the other elil that are likely to sneak into the warren when you're asleep, catch you and eat your eyes for flayrah!" Although Alan and some of the others couldn't help but chuckle, the does weren't pleased.

"There is no need to scare your friends like that Sandwort!" Clover blemished her son, who walked up to her with ears drooped. Vilthuril gently retrieved Threar from Alan's shoulder and the mothers descended into the warren with their children.

As they descended into the illuminated warren (Derek had installed a light, powered from his turbine, so the humans no longer needed flashlights whenever they visited), Alan saw Hazel and Bigwig conversing with Campion, who had also arrived for the meeting. After giving Alan a warm welcome, the group settled down, while Fiver kept Lucy preoccupied with a game of Bobstones, Sandwort having been sent to bed.

"Groundsel-rah has been asking about that deserted man-burrow site up north; he wishes to have the area searched for possible hazards. I have already arranged to take out a Wide Patrol tomorrow with Moss and we would like you to accompany us as specialist escort," Campion said, referring to a stony outcrop, which had been the remains of some unidentified town that the Wide Patrols had recently discovered. Ever since the union of the two warrens, many such expeditions were made, so the humans could map the area, as well as conduct salvage for any useful trinkets, like on an excavation.

"Certainly, I'll cancel tomorrow's Owsla exercises and we'll meet you at Vleflain at dawn," Bigwig said, "I am sure Alan can have the chaps make an early start in the morning?" Alan nodded with a grimace; Hotdog and Derek would have his head when he would drag them out of bed at six in the morning again.

Later that evening, Alan found himself walking home with Lucy, the moon and Pandora Belt (the name they had given to the asteroid belt circling the Earth) illuminating the night sky. Alan was humming _Bright Eyes_ to himself, when he felt Lucy tug on his sleeve, "Dad, I was wondering if you would let Sandwort and me use the lab?" Alan had to fight back a laugh.

"No way! I am not about to let you guys demolish the house! I recall, the last time I let you two play in the _kitchen_, I ended up been chased around with a horse whip by Josie, for ruining her kitchen." Lucy burst out laughing at the memory. Alan raised an eyebrow, "Think that's funny, you little rascal?" Lucy only fought back more laughter, "Well laugh _this_ off!"

In a swift move, he picked up his daughter, flung her in the air and caught her by the ankles; she burst into a fit of squeals as he started tickling her feet, "My my, I think you need a bath, young lady!" he chuckled as he realised how dirty her feet were; with all those activities she and the kittens would get up to every day, not to mention she had developed a habit of walking around the Down barefoot, it was only to be expected. Still carrying her upside-down, he approached their compound overlooking Beacon Hill, where they met Josie, who was waiting for them with Pipkin, who had made a habit of staying over more often than he slept in the Honeycomb.

"There you are," she said as she put the lantern aside to kiss Alan, "I thought you guys were going to spend the whole night at the Honeycomb. Bigwig's been keeping you for more of his schedules?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Alan chuckled, "That great big dandy may want to keep me there around the clock but I am not about to give him the satisfaction any time soon…not when I am dying to come home every evening!" he said, as he kissed her again. Josie giggled, "Not in front of the kids, Alan!" Alan turned and saw Lucy, still dangling by her ankles, and Pipkin sniggering in amusement.

So where are Derek and Hotdog?" he asked, as he put Lucy down and followed the others inside. The ground floor of the house was divided into four rooms: the lounge, the kitchen, the stairwell and a large closet where their equipment was kept. The panelling and flooring was made of planks from old storage crates salvaged from the HAB, with a ceiling supported by steel girders cut from the facility's framework. The furniture was made of roughly cut wood, without paint or varnish, just like the rest of the house. The first floor built inside the thatch roof was divided into five bedrooms, including an unused guestroom, in the unlikely event that they ever encountered any other humans in this future world.

"They decided to turn in early after supper; Pipkin's already informed them about tomorrow's scouting patrol. I suspect they don't fancy the prospect of being woken up by Bigwig again…" Alan snorted at the memory, remembering how his two friends had once overslept on a scheduled patrol, causing a furious Bigwig to burst into their rooms and cuff them each on the nose, to wake them up.

Later that evening, a drowsy Alan made his way upstairs to bed; he and his companions each had their own room, where they kept their personal belongings, although Alan had secretly shared a bed with Josie on more than one occasion since moving in. His bedroom was the first on the landing, with a window looking out onto the Down, the Honeycomb visible in the distance. The furnishing wasn't much; a roughly-made wardrobe, several shelves filled with books and other accessories, a desk housing his typewriter, computer and stationary, a wash-plate and jug, and a bed. Several photographs he had taken since his arrival, as well as a few relics of his old life, decorated the walls.

Changing into his nightclothes, he lay down on his bulky wooden bed, which had a sheepskin mattress, a chicken-feather stuffed pillow and their 21st century camping blankets for covering. As he removed his glasses and put out his candle, he felt Pipkin, his frequent bed companion, jump onto the bed and curl up beside him.

Today, the first anniversary of his new life had come and gone. Since childhood, Alan had come a long way; growing up motherless, having lost his father before he was even in his early teens, disowned by his brother, losing his wife to a vengeful rival, hunted down by a terrorist faction, living the most perilous adventure in history, and even coming to the point of having to murder one of his former friends to protect the rest of his friends. But now he had finally found his true place in this future world, away from the corrupt human world he had known and despised. Here, he had finally found the life he had always wanted. Now, he was truly home, on Watership Down.

As he drifted off to sleep, he sunk into mysterious dreams of abandoned cities inhabited by giant savage rabbits, forests overrun by 21st century bounty hunters, a coffin of ice opening to reveal the corpse of his brother Royce, all the while being watched by a sinister red eye…

**~FINIS~**

Author's notes: Well folks, this is the end! After three years, I can't believe I have finished my first story! My undying thanks to fellow fanfic authors, RogueFanKC, Kamikazitwinkie, Journalist793, Loganberry, Entai-rah as well as my friends and family, for all their support and help. Also, I would like to express my compliments to the filmmakers of _Watership Down (1978)_, _The Watership Down Television Series_, Neville Teller's audio book, as well as the television series _Life After People_, which provided the necessary inspiration for this story. This work is dedicated to Richard Adams, whose incredible book influenced the course of my life. For those of you who have read my story but haven't reviewed, PLEASE DO SO! The last paragraph is also a sneak peak for a possible sequel, although I haven't decided yet when I am going to start writing it or if I will write it at all; it all depends on the level of interest from my reviewers! Hope to hear from you guys again soon!

Frithaes!

Sharks Potter

27/05/2011


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